
Class 

Book_ 

Gopiglitl? 



CCQEXRIGin< DEPOSm 




Capt. Alexander C. Corkum 



Musings of a Mariner 




By 

Capt. Alexander C. Corkum 






Copyright, 1921 
By a. C. Corkum 



0/ 

I'M ' 



Atlantic Printing Company 
boston, massachusetts 

^^C!,A630813 
DHC 14 1921 ! L^--'- 



Dedicated to a 

lifelong inspiration and sweetheart 

My Wife 



CONTENTS 



Retrospection i 

I'll Jhink of Thee 2 

To Friends Beyond the Sea 2 

The Breath of the Salt Sea Gale 3 

Minot's Beacon 4 

The Pharos of Skerryvore 5 

Perce Rock 6 

The Naero Fjord 7 

The Land of the Midnight Sun 8 

Farewell to Stockholm lo 

Min Svea Rike, or The Swedish Wanderer's Reverie 1 1 

The Deserted Cottage 1 2 

It Seems But Yesterday 13 

The Cruise 14 

The Cross and the Crescent; or The Siege of Malta 24 

Adara. A Tale of Thera 41 

Lines Written on the Plains of Abraham, Quebec 64 

A Summer Sunset at Seattle 65 

The First Hill of Seattle 66 

To Robert Burns 67 

My Auld Scottish Hame on the Banks of the Clyde 69 

The Black Watch at Magersfontein 69 

Columbia Frae Thee 7^ 

The Bonnie Lass o' Leith "Jo. 

A Scotchman's Farewell to His Country 73 

Passing Away 73 

My Bonnie Little Jean 74 

Alanna Machree 75 

My Dear Colleen 76 

A Sprig of Shamrock 77 

The Grand Army Parade 78 

Hail ! Starry Banner 79 

Lines Written on a Postal Card to a Lady Who Was Thrown from a Car- 
riage and Injured 79 



Contents 

Columbia's Floral Wreath 80 

The Land of the Palm and the Pine 8i 

Sweet Mignonette . 81 

Fair Flow'ret from My Native Heath 82 

That Little Country Schoolhouse 83 

Lines to a Delinquent Correspondent 84 

My Dear Little Alpine Maid 85 

The Passing of the Old Home on the Farm 86 

DaiFodil 92 

Lines to Another Delinquent 92 

O, Sing to Me Those Dear Old Songs 93 

Lines Written Upon Visiting a Cave on the Island of Mackinac, Michigan, 

Called "The Devil's Kitchen" 93 

Outward Bound (A Watch Song) 94 

Homeward Bound (A Watch Song) 94 

The Ship That Bears My Name 95 

The Pardoned Private. A Tale of the British Army 96 

The Dying Aviator , loi 

Rita. A Soldier's Farewell 102 

The Rose of Acadie 103 

To Mary 104 

Rosalie 105 

My Stellar Goddess of the Sea 106 

In Memoriam 106 

An Elegy. On the Passing of a Friend 107 

A Dirge. A Tribute to President McKinley 108 

My Peerless Queen 108 

An Address of a Young Lady to a Faded Violet 109 

Ma Belle Cap' taine no 



MUSINGS OF A MARINER 



RETROSPECTION 



When Time has winnowed from our memories the tares 
Of all unpleasantries, and petty ills and cares, 

And o'er the paths that we have traveled here on earth 
The golden grain of pleasure, thro' productive worth. 
Spreads manifest; and in a retrospective way- 
Appears no less inspiring than 'neath the first survey; 
Then in our reveries with what delight we scan 
Again the beauties of the works of God and man. 

How richly blest is he who clearly can define 
The many matchless charms that grace a work divine; 
Who feels inherent joy pervade and thrill his heart 
Before the wondrous shrines of Nature and of Art; 
Can mentally rebuild what carnage hath destroyed, 
And reinstate the life events have long made void; 
Whose heart responsive beats to scenes of ev'ry age. 
And can at will commune with each immortal sage. 

To glean and garner, then, those precious grains of lore 
Attained 'mid hallowed scenes of lands we journey o'er; 

To mingle with the shades of their immortal dead. 

And share companionships that light the paths we tread, 
To make an impress deep of all that we observe 
And then within the cells of memory preserve; 

That we may view those scenes, whenever we elect. 

Once in reality — but oft in Retrospect. 



Musings of a Mariner 



I'LL THINK OF THEE 

(A Sailor's Farwell) 

When dune and headland sink from view — 
When circled by the ocean blue — 
When distant courses I'll pursue 

Across the trackless sea; 
And let the winds blow foul or fair, 
Whatever joy — whatever care — 
It chance to be my lot to share, 

I'll think of thee — I'll think of thee. 

When thro' the veil of peaceful night. 
The dome of Heaven is spangled bright 
With orbs that shed their guiding light 

In soft sublimity; 
And when the day-spring's matchless dyes 
Illume the waves and Eastern skies, 
Or when the day in splendor dies — 

I'll think of thee — I'll think of thee. 

When tempests shall my path assail. 
And dangers lurk within the gale. 
When light from every orb shall fail, 

My guiding star thou'lt be; 
Till dune and headland reappear 
Upon the land I love so dear. 
Till thy sweet voice again I'll hear, 

I'll think of thee— I'll think of thee. 

TO FRIENDS BEYOND THE SEA 

Along the strand at eventide 

I dearly love to stray. 
And watch the green waves break and glide 

In wreaths of silver spray. 
And listen to their murm'ring tones 

Which seem to bear to me 
Fresh greetings from the loving ones 

I left beyond the sea. 



Musings of a Mariner 



Then break! sad waves, O break! 

In ceaseless melody. 
And cherished memories awake 

Of friends beyond the sea. 

How clearly now in fancy's light 

Each absent one appears; 
And scenes familiar greet my sight 

Unchanged by lapse of years; 
For absence o'er the constant heart 

Can claim no victory; 
So to the end I'll dwell in part 

With those beyond the sea. 

Then break! sad waves, O break! 

In ceaseless melody. 
And cherished memories awake 

Of friends beyond the sea. 



THE BREATH OF THE SALT SEA GALE 

Away with the bowers of peaceful repose — 

The pleasures that live 'mid the haunts of the rose. 

And the soft-scented zephyr that modestly blows 

In the quiet, sequestered vale; 
And give me the heave of the boundless sea. 
With its ceaseless cares and its charms for me. 
For I count not the calm of the sheltered slee, 

But the breath of the salt sea gale. 

And give me my yacht in her stately pride. 
When swan-like she glides o'er the restless tide. 
With the billows caressing her windward side 

And awash is her leeward rail. 
And her tapering spars, as they tower on high. 
Seem a-cleaving the clouds of the low'ring sky, 
And her rigging's attuned in a soft lullaby 

To the breath of the salt sea gale. 



Musings of a Mariner 



Then blending their beauties, so grand and sweet, 
The Ocean and Heavens more closely meet; 
And my cheek is aglow, and my soul replete 

With affection that cannot fail; 
For as strong as the forces that 'round me rave, 
And as pure as the white of the crested wave, 
Are the feelings that wake in the breast of the brave 

To the breath of the salt sea gale. 

MINOT'S BEACON 

Out where the waves of the Ocean 

Thunder and break in their wrath. 
Here on the outermost danger. 

Near to the mariners' path. 
Standing on treacherous footing. 

Towering over the sea 
Flash I my signal of warning 

Of one — four — and three. 

Wrapped in a mantle of darkness. 

Lashed by the wind and the wave, 
Swaying beneath their encounters. 

Often their furies I brave; 
And by the tears of the tempest, 

Dimmed tho' my radiance be. 
Still I keep flashing my warnings 

Of one — four — and three. 

Mist often mingles with darkness. 

Pall-like upon me they close. 
Hiding my treacherous neighbors. 

Whom I am here to expose; 
Then with my voice I'm proclaiming 

Dangers the eye cannot see, 
While I keep flashing my warnings 

Of one — four — and three. 

Winds that have fiercely assailed me 
Whisper their gentle regret. 







Minot's Beacon 




Skerryvore Lighthouse, Scotland 



Musings of a Mariner 



Waves that besieged me in anger 
'Round me remorsefully fret; 

Always impassive I greet them; 
Duty is sacred to me; 

So I keep flashing my warnings 
Of one — four — and three. 

Here thro' the varying seasons. 

Gray, weather-beaten I stand, 
Guiding the course of the seaman, 

Cautiously making the land; 
And to all people who pass me. 

Seeking the "Land of the Free," 
Flashing a welcome and warning 

Of one — four — and three. 



THE PHAROS OF SKERRYVORE 

Where the piercing North winds sweep 

Frost-laden from the Pole, 
Where the icy billows leap. 

Arrested in their roll 
By the ledge on which I stand, 

Three leagues from Scotland's shore. 
To flash my light thro' the wintry night 

From the rock of Skerry vore. 

When the driving sleet and hail 

Swirl 'round my beaming face. 
And the mighty waves assail 

And thunder at my base, 
O'er the shoals on which they rise, 

And break with fearful roar, 
I flash my light thro' the tempests' height 

From the dangerous Skerryvore. 

When the orbs of Heaven fail 
To shed their guiding light. 



Musings of a Mariner 



And the dangers of the gale 
Add terrors to the night; 

To the storm-tossed mariner. 
Whose heart is tried and sore, 

I flash my rays to his anxious gaze 
From the dreaded Skerryvore. 

When the summer Sun impairs 

The length and gloom of night. 
And the peaceful Ocean bears 

His beam of golden light; 
Then my giant form is seen 

These dangers tow'ring o'er, 
To greet the eye of the passer-by 

And to warn of Skerryvore. 

In the absence of the Sun 

Throughout each passing year. 
O'er this danger men would shun 

With mingled awe and fear; 
To deprive it of the prey 

It claimed in days of yore, 
I flash my flare of Beware! Beware! 

Of the treacherous Skerryvore. 



PERCE ROCK 

Strange habitant! without a kin or peer. 
In somber majesty thou standest here; 

Like some stern Knight of ages long gone by, 
^' That stood impassive in his panoply; 
And deigned not to resist the mad attack 
Of fierce and futile foes, who were thrown back 
By the recoil of their own force, which, spent. 
Left him unvanquished tho' with armor rent. 

How long, or well, thou here hast held thy state. 
No one may know, or even contemplate; 



Musings of a Mariner 



But from thy pierced form, can but opine 

What strange and ceaseless onsets have been thine; 

How long or wantonly the wintry sea 

Has cast its floes relentlessly at thee; 
Yet by what forces thou hast been beset, 
Thou still stand'st forth unvanquished yet. 

Whatever legends may pertain to thee. 
To human ravages thou still art free; 

Thy sides precipitous admit not man 

The secrets of thy lofty brow to scan; 
Whereon no voices mingle save the chant. 
So wild and weird, of gull and cormorant; 

Where undisturbed, when, from their tiring flight, 

They rest and revel on thy airy height. 

Dame Nature formed thee of such strange design 
That she alone might change this form of thine; 

And thro' the passing of those countless years 

Thou hast not proved impervious to her tears; 
And thy slow wasting sides proclaim to all 
That everything, however great, must fall. 

And farther, to the thoughtful mind relate. 

She may destroy, but not annihilate. 



THE NAERO FJORD 

IN SUMMER 

Of the noble fjords of Norway, 
Found amid the hills reposing. 
None exels and few can equal 
The wild grandeur of the Naero. 
From its waters, deep and placid. 
Mountains tower, grand — impressive; 
Varied in their rugged beauty 
From their base to lofty summit; 
Where the virgin robes of winter 
Glisten in the golden sunlight. 



Musings of a Manner 



Melting into threads of crystal 
'Neath the molient breath of summer, 
. Form in streamlets, and in torrents. 
Then forsake the winter fastness 
Into cascades, gauzy-veil-like. 
Or in falls of fulgent splendor. 
Murm'ring, roaring hasty greetings, 
Blushing like the varied rainbow 
To the verdant smile of nature, 
'Til they gain their source maternal. 
Whose calm bosom, like a mirror 
Silvered by the northern sunlight. 
Reproduces, tho' inverted. 
Everything within reflection. 

Where the dal and fjord are meeting. 
Where the crystal elv is flowing, 
'Neath the shelter of the mountains 
Lies the hamlet of Gudvangen. 
Nestling there in deep seclusion 
Where the sunbeams and the shadows. 
Where the charms of all the seasons 
Seem to meet and intermingle. 
Here amid this mighty grandeur, 
'Mid these mystic charms of nature, 
'Mid this deep and gloomy stillness, 
Thoughtful minds in meditation 
Soaring in the realm esthetic. 
Will perceive around them mirrored 
Visions of the wondrous power 
Of their infinite Creator. 



THE LAND OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN 

Well may the sons of Norway boast, 
And laud the beauties of their coast; 
For from the Nord Kap to the Naze 
Extends an almost perfect maze 



Musings of a Mariner 



Of winding leads and channels deep 
'Mid countless isles, which bravely keep 
Withstanding Tempests' wrath and din. 
To guard the lovely fjords within. 

Of varied hue, of form and size 

Each in its azure setting lies; 
And rises from the barren sten 
To tow'ring heights like Hornelen. 

Or Mageroen's peerless cape — 

Deep-furrowed and imposing shape — 
That stands majestic in its height, 
Thro' sunless day and sunlit night. 

And here and there the sheltered land 
(As Stadtland like a monster hand). 
Beyond the skaergaard stretches forth 
To dare the conflicts of the North. 
Whilst in the rear is seen to rise 
The ice-capped hills of giant size; 

And some with freakish peaks upborne, 
As Troltind and the Romsdalshorn. 

Here cradled 'mid those charms sublime. 
Congruent to this Northern clime — 

Where rugged strength with beauty vies. 
And each the tooth of Time defies. 
Where summer's breath appears to bear 
The balmy warmth the Tropics share — 
Here nestUng 'mid perpetual snows 
The deep and tranquil fjords repose. 

Thro' countless ages they have held 
Companionship with snow-clad fjeld. 
Thro' semi-polar nights have slept. 
While icy blasts have o'er them swept. 
And Winter's sun, at noonday height. 
Afforded them no warmthful light. 



Musings of a Mariner lo 

And yet their bosoms seem to hold 
Immunity to frigid cold. 

When Summer winds quiescent lie. 
And cloudless beams the Northern sky, 
Those mighty vales by Ocean claimed 
Seem like vast mirrors deftly framed; 
From verdured base to icy crest 
Their sides are mirrored on each breast; 
E'en Heaven's dome is reproduced. 
And in their depths appears transluced. 

Here ever-changing light and shade 
Commingle softly and then fade; 

Here charms of all the seasons blend 

When morns begin as ev'nings end; 
Here grandeur wakes upon our sense 
A thought of God's omnipotence; 

For Nature's charms appear so great. 

Our craft would merely desecrate. 

Few relics of the art of man. 
Are here for human eyes to scan; 

Yet sagas of this land impart 

A strange enchantment to the heart. 
The deeds of Vikings, skalds have told. 
To man this living truth unfold: — 

The cast of human temp'rament 

Is moulded by environment. 



FAREWELL TO STOCKHOLM 

Softly over lake and hillside 
Spreads the rosy blush of morn, 

Calm and peaceful all's reposing. 
Unto daily strife unborn. 

I will not disturb thy slumbers. 
Sad and silent I go forth; 



1 1 Musings of a Mariner 

Waving thee adieu forever. 
Lovely "Venice of the North." 

Deep, ah, deep are the affections 

That thy beauty's won from me 
'Neath thy ling'ring summer twilights; 

Ling'ring be my memory. 
But 'twas not alone thy beauty 

That brought my affection forth; 
But the dear friends that I leave thee. 

Lovely "Venice of the North." 

Soon the seas shall roll between us. 

Other cities I shall see; 
Stronger ties perchance may claim me. 

Other friends shall welcome me. 
But the tender ties that bind me 

To thy beauty and thy worth 
Naught can e'er efface, or sever. 

Farewell, "Venice of the North." 

MIN SVEA RIKEi 

OR 

THE SWEDISH WANDERER'S REVERIE 

How oft my thoughts revert to thee, 
Min Svea Rike! beyond the sea; 

For o'er thy varied beauties, rare. 

My mem'ry fondly lingers there. 
My youthful love that thou did'st gain 
As steadfast as thy hills remain; 

For as thou seemed to childhood's sight. 

Thou still appear'st in fancy's light. 

When nature clothes thy hills in green 
Around thy fjords and lakes serene. 

Thy countless isles appear to view. 

Like emeralds set in limpid blue. 

iPro. Sve a Reka. 



Musings of a Mariner \i 

Thy charms seem then too clear and bright 

To be enshrouded by the night; 
For unto me thou art most fair 
When summer twilights linger there. 

When hoary winter reigns supreme, 

And seals the lake and murm'ring stream. 
And over vale and mountain height 
She spreads her spotless robes of white. 

Which glisten 'neath fair Luna's rays. 

Whilst o'er the sky aurora plays, 

And lends thee charms in winter's night 
Quite unexcelled in summer's light. 

And often feelings o'er me steal, 
Too deep and tender to reveal. 

For charms of which I'm now bereft. 

And those dear ones I've loved, and left. 
For all that youth or beauty gives 
Within my quenchless mem'ry lives; 

And nought shall e'er make me disown 

Min Svea Rike, friends and home. 



THE DESERTED COTTAGE 

In my meditative moments, 

O, how oft my thoughts will roam 
O'er the wide and trackless ocean. 

Back to England and my home. 
Back to scenes of happy childhood. 

When life seemed a golden dream. 
In that little thatched-roof cottage. 

Near the Itchen's gentle stream. 

Then the hawthorne and the roses 
Bloomed profusely by the door, 

And the woodbine and the ivy 
Twined its walls and gables o'er; 



13 Musings of a Mariner 

And how brightly did the sunshine 
Thro' its trellised casements beam 

In that httle thatched-roof cottage. 
Near the Itchen's gentle stream. 

Happy hearts it then did shelter. 

Youthful friends around it played, 
And their melodies oft mingled 

With the songsters in the shade. 
And within its humble portals 

Happiness then reigned supreme, 
In that little thatched-roof cottage. 

Near the Itchen's gentle stream. 

But alas! 'tis now deserted, 

And 'tis falling in decay; 
And the dear ones that it sheltered 

Long ago have passed away. 
And its dark and broken casements 

Now emit no friendly gleam 
From that little thatched-roof cottage, 

Near the Itchen's gentle stream. 
To a deserted cottage near Southampton, Eng. 



IT SEEMS BUT YESTERDAY 

Tho' fleeting Time, with ruthless hand. 

Stern changes may decree. 
Unchanged, my heart still fondly turns 

To hours I've spent with thee. 
Tho' many scenes I since have viewed. 

And years have passed away. 
They still appear to me so dear — 

It seems but yesterday. 

Those sylvan shades where we then strayed. 

In vernal robes were dressed. 
And fairer seemed, where gently flowed 

The Itchen and the Test. 



Musings of a Manner 14 

And other haunts where we would meet 

With comrades blithe and gay, 
Now rise so bright upon my sight — 

It seems but yesterday. 

Our hearts were then so well attuned 

In melodies of mirth, 
That each responsive chord revealed 

The mark of friendship's worth. 
Each voice that blended then with mine 

In laughter, jest, or lay. 
Now floats so clear upon my ear — 

It seems but yesterday. 

And if the Fates should so ordain 

That we shall meet no more, 
Those happy hours shall e'er appeal 

As sweetly as of yore. 
And thro' the future's mystic paths 

Where'er I chance to stray. 
In fancy's light they'll seem as bright 

As those of yesterday. 
To a friend at Southampton, England. 

THE CRUISE 



The ofRng gained, unconsciously I turn 
And westward gaze, where clearly I discern 
Along the meeting line of sky and sea 
A vestige of the land most dear to me, 
A long, dim line which takes a welkin hue 
And seems to link, while fading on my view. 
The earth to Heav'n's immeasurable dome. 
And closer still my heart to friends and home. 

II 
Farewell ! my most beloved land, farewell ! 
How much more clearly now beneath the spell 



15 Musings of a Mariner 

Of parting, I perceive thy real worth; 

Thou fairest and most favored land of earth! 
Thy beauties and thy strength are those of youth 
Which shed a vernal brightness; and in truth, 

The clouds of Tyranny can never gain 

Ascendency where men and Freedom reign. 

Ill 

At length the last dim outline of the land 
Has disappeared, and now on ev'ry hand 

There spreads that vast, illimited domain 

Where men have ruled, but never yet did reign; 
Whose changeful breast is still unchanged by Time; 
In every mood — impressive and sublime; 

Belov'd by those who hear its mystic call 

And held in reverential awe by all. 

IV 

O mighty Ocean ! In reposeful mood 
How deep and tranquil is thy solitude! 

Thy voice is silent, hence does not reveal 

What caused the tragedies thy depths conceal; 
No semblance of a trace does ev'n attest 
The fearful wrath that oft perturbs thy breast; 

But smiling at the Sun in calm repose 

Reflects the countless kisses he bestows. 



But fickle is the April Sun, for soon 

Across his face dark, threatening clouds are strewn. 
Then wind and wave with sigh and sob awake 
And 'neath a weeping sky in fury break. 

A veil of driving mist now shrouds the sight. 

And lends apparent terror to the night; 

Which cause the weak to feel a child's alarms. 
And mewl and puke in anybody's arms. 



Musings of a Mariner 1 6 

VI 

The fleeting tempest with the night has passed, 
And save within the East, where clouds are massed. 
The sky assumes again its brightest smile 
Which seems the Ocean's wrath to reconcile; 
The seas, deep-heaving, tho' devoid of crest. 
Subside beneath soft zephyrs from the West; 
Anticipative joy on ev'ry face is read. 
For now the order's giv'n: "Full Speed Ahead!" 

VII 

Full speed ahead throughout a sennight's space 
Upon the trackless deep our course we trace 
Across the stream bestrewn with verdant sedge. 
And then, 'neath fairer skies, along its edge. 
Around our bows incessantly there play 
Bright, variegated wreaths of crystal spray; 
While thro' the nights, upon our shimm'ring wake 
The fleeting lights of phosphorescence break. 

VIII 

Low, massive clouds now shroud the rising Sun 
Proclaiming that our port is nearly won; 

And soon those welcome words that oft have stirred 

The weary wanderer's heart: "Land, O!" is heard. 
Beneath the haze Comprida Point is seen. 
And scarce two leagues of distance intervene. 

The clouds and morning mist lie like a pall 

Upon the heights of Pico and Fayal. 

IX 

Beneath the mid-day Sun the clouds arise; 

And save on Pico's lofty brow where lies 

A wreath that crowns her the Azorean queen 
Those lovely isles unclouded now are seen; 

Resplendent in their vernal robes arrayed 

Their most enchanting beauties are displayed. 

And with their brightest smiles they seem to greet 
And bid us welcome to their safe retreat. 



ly Musings of a Mariner 



X 

Fair Horta ! how secluded and how sweet 
Thou seemest, nestUng here about the feet 
Of sheltering and varied-verdur'd hills 
Where fragrance from the wild hydrangea fills 
The ever-balmy air, and seems to lend 
A sylvan charm the Ocean can't forfend. 
A restful, rural hav'n — amid the seas — 
Where long have dwelt the Fleming-Portuguese. 

XI 

From out the greatest conflict often springs 
The most enduring peace, and Nature brings 
From out the wildest chaos she has wrought 
The sweetest scenes that wake admiring thought. 
So 'tis with thee, Azores, that proudly hold 
The fairest charms that Nature can unfold; 

What Force did raise thee from the Ocean's breast 
Thy vast calderas vaguely but suggest. 

XII 

But now, strange sentries of the Western sea, 

Reluctantly I bid adieu to thee; 
And as the rising Sun their crests illume 
My Eastward course I once again resume; 

And ere he rests upon the zenith's height 

Majestic Pico disappears from sight; 

Fades from my sight — but on my memory — 
That stately form's impressed indelibly. 

XIII 

Four days we sail o'er seas that tranquil lie, 
And then upon our starboard we descry 

That friendly beacon light that marks so well 
The treach'rous, fascinating Cape Spartel. 
Weird Cape ! symbolic of thy Moorish race 
Whose former prestige now retains no place; 
Yet seems as strange and mythic as thine own, 
When thou wert guardian of this sea unknown. 



Musings of a Mariner 



XIV 

Before me lies the portal of two seas; 

Where Pillars of the fabled Hercules 
Thro' many centuries defiance hurled 
At those who'd cross their bound'ry of the world. 

The wind and tide conflict. All crystal white 

The wave-crests spread beneath the morning light; 
The rising Sun adds splendor to the view, 
And tints the waves an opalescent hue. 

XV 

Tarifa's passed. (No tariff now is claimed 

By that historic town, from whence 'twas named.) 
The wind has ceased, — the strait enchanting lies, 
As from its sides two continents arise; 

Dark Africa, repellent to the gaze. 

Remindful still of its primeval days; 

While Europe, more inviting and refined. 
Bestows a sweeter influx to the mind. 

XVI 

Beside her feet a couchant form appears — 
The Calpe^ of the ancients who for years 
Regarded it their gods' abiding place. 
And hence forbidden to the human race. 
A silent guardian of their classic sea — 
In form and strength a peerless prodigy; 
An object then of superstitious awe — 
A fortress now of martial strength and law. 

XVII 

Did Nature in creation then suggest 

In this imposing form — from base to crest — 
That man in this enlighten'd age should mar 
And arm it with the engin'ry of war? 

Its name shall stand synonymous of strength; 

But sad to contemplate: how great a length 

^Gibraltar. 



I p Musings of a Mariner 

It may remain a symbol that betrays 
Man's slight advance from his barbaric ways. 

XVIII 

Within its spacious roadstead I espy 
Some old, dismantled ships at anchor lie; 

That proudly sailed o'er every sea that's known, 

And braved the elements of every zone. 
Sad relics of departed strength and worth! 
Discarded benefactors of the earth ! 

Thy days of greatest usefulness have flown; 

In memory thy glories live alone. 

XIX 

The portal's passed; and with a strange delight 
I greet the sea that spreads upon my sight; 

And feel how deep 'tis veiled in mystery, 

Altho' mythology and history 
Have shed a light thro' many centuries 
On deeds of mankind and the deities; 

Which tends to raise the thought of beings higher 

And kindle in their breasts Promethean fire. 

XX 

Upon its shores four empires had a home: — 
Assyria and Persia, Greece and Rome. 

Here lesser powers, too, have had their sway 

And like their greater rivals — their decay. 
The site of ancient Troy in doubt is traced. 
While Tyre and Carthage long have been effaced; 

Degeneracy now marks the Moslem reign — 

Decadency the power of haughty Spain. 

XXI 

Here Nature has bestowed with lavish hand 
Such beauties as forever will command 

The awe and admiration of our race; 

Here, ev'n amid the ruins, we may trace 



Musings of a Mariner 20 

What wondrous gifts to man she did impart 

Of architecture, Hterature and art. 

Here, too, had birth three great religious creeds 
Which caused such noble and such fiendish deeds. 

XXII 

Upon the waves that laved its troubled shores 

Was heard the ryhthmic sound of galley oars; 
Which mingled with the yells of men enraged, 
When racial and religious wars were waged. 

Such naval battle-scenes can ne'er recur 

As Salamis, or even Aboukir. 
The barb'rous traits of men in war estranged. 
Like this great sea, remain alone unchanged. 

XXIII 

A peaceful calm prevails o'er sea and land; 
And while I'm skirting Andalusia's strand 

The setting Sun bestows his waning light 

On Mulahacen's crystal-crested height; 
Which brings to mind Boabdil's fated day. 
When on this "snowy range" he stayed his way, 

A royal fugitive in sad despair. 

To bid farewell to his Granada fair. 

XXIV 

He saw beneath the Heav'n's unclouded dome 
His lost Alhambra! his ancestral home; 

Where his progenitors had reigned for years 

'Mid splendors unattained by their compeers. 
He viewed in anguish its vermilion towers 
That rose above its oriental bowers. 

Then visions came which caused immortal sighs. 

His farewell to that earthly paradise. 

XXV 

The skill and rare refinement of the Moor 
In castellated monuments endure; 



21 Musings of a Mariner 

Which, tho' defaced by man and time, are still 

The glory of Granada and Seville. 
And as the shadows deepen I opine 
How like this ev'ning's close was their decline; 

The splendor of their race so like this day 

Seemed loth from those fair hills to pass away. 

XXVI 

But other structures mark a later reign: — 

The empire days of proud and haughty Spain — 
Where wanton use of gold to us reveal 
The wealth of those who ruled in New Castile. 

Ill-gotten gold! that proved a deadly bane 

And left upon this land a lasting stain; 

Whose glitter 'round their altars shall endure 
To mock the suffering of their worthy poor. 

XXVII 

Their spread of empire wrought with sword and brand 
Suggests the crimes of Torquemada's hand; 

Who in his bigotry did slay and burn, 

'Til this fair land became a charnel urn. 
Their cruelty in conquests still remain 
A blot upon the history of Spain; 

Which tends to veil in ignomy and shame 

The noble deeds that glorified her name, 

XXVIII 

Despotic pow'r can never long endure; 
Nor can its pomp and pageantry secure 

A true allegiance in the heart of man 

When goaded to despair beneath its ban. 
So one by one Spain's colonies rebelled. 
Until at length not one by her was held. 

Her great possessions gone — she seems to be 

In her decadent state — a limbless tree. 

XXIX 

But 'twould be most unjust if I should fail 
To sound a softer note for her avail. 



Musings of a Mariner ii 

"To err is human"; and 'tis not humane 

The fallen man or nation to defame. 
Fruition of the deeds which caused her rise 
Is shared by ev'ry nation 'neath the skies; 

As to her fall, I must in justice own, 

'Twas caused by acts not wholly hers alone. 

XXX 

The crescent moon within the West declines; 
That friendly orb whose light revealed designs 

Of PhiHp at Byzantium, and gained 

A symbolism it's ever since retained. 
Adopted by the Moslems it became 
An emblem of their growing pow'r and fame; 

And while its light so softly fades away. 

It seems symbolic still — of their decay. 

XXXI 

More deeply now the midnight shadows close. 
A stillness reigns — the quiet of repose; 

A stillness so profound — it seems to me. 

Minds not of Time — but of Eternity, 
Whatever deeds have been enacted here. 
No sign, nor trace does even now appear; 

For all is tranquil on the land and deep 

And rest in earthly or eternal sleep. 

XXXII 

The waking dawn subdues the orbs of night; 
And o'er the Eastern sky, increasing bright, 

The most resplendent pencilings unfold; 

A blending exquisite of blue and gold; 
That fades in splendor when the god of day 
Upon the sea spreads forth his brilliant ray; 

And Cape de Gata — lying close a-beam — 

Reflects the brightness of his golden gleam. 

XXXIII 

How glorious this scene appears to be; 
Upon our right the placid, sunlit sea; 



23 Musings of a Mariner 

While on our left the hills of Spain arise; 

And o'er it all — unclouded, vernal skies. 
The rugged coast — engraved by hand of Time 
In forms grotesque, yet strikingly sublime, — 

Is crowned with sloping hills of verdant green, 

Where nestle towns, with straggling cots between. 

XXXIV 

Upon our bow New Carthage now appears — 
That grand emporium of ancient years; 

Whose present prestige clearly still betrays 

The wealth and glory of her primal days. 
The dream of Hasdrubal; Spain's morning star; 
The pride of Hannibal, that god of war. 

Whose martial spirit seems a living dower 

That lends a luster to her present power. 

XXXV 

Hesperia ! Land of the setting Sun : 

Today before that designation's won, 
We pass the sightly town of Alicante, 
Where signs of her past strength are still extant; 

And while the ev'ning shadows deeper grow. 

We pass the Cape of San Antonio; 
And just before the midnight watch is set. 
We sight the light upon great Columbrette. 

XXXVI 

A lovely dawn succeeds a tranquil night; 
And clearly I discern beneath its light 

The Sierra de Almenar range arise, 

That shields the coast where Tarragona lies. 
Ere noon we pass the greatest port of Spain; 
Fair Barcelona, rising once again 

Above the glory of its former state; 

Spain's latent power to resuscitate. 

XXXVII 

We pass Sebastian Cape and enter 'pon 
The treach'rous waters of Golfe du Lion; 



Musings of a Mariner 24 

Where, from between the Alps and Pyrenees, 
The mistral sweeping wakes such dang'rous seas 

As cause us now our crossing to delay. 

And seek an anchorage in Rosas Bay. 
A sheltered port where we a day remain. 
And then a last and fond farewell to Spain. 

XXXVIII 

A peaceful Sabbath morn, and at its break 
We weigh our anchor and departure take. 

The lofty Pyrenees are veiled in haze. 

The placid gulf alone attracts our gaze 
'Til Planier's stately shaft our sight enchants, 
And bids us welcome unto "La Belle France." 

And here shall rest awhile the voy'ge and tale, 

Safe moored within the port of old Marseille. 



THE CROSS AND THE CRESCENT 

or 

THE SIEGE OF MALTA 

Part I 

CHAPELLE DES MORTS 

Sepulchral Chapel! on thy chancel walls 
A gruesome host incessantly attends; 

Whose ghastly stare the flippant tongue enthrals. 
And every thought of levity forfends. 

They mutely, yet most potently, impart 

The mortal truth of man's consummate fate; 

And wake far deeper feelings in the heart 
Than eloquence of priest or potentate. 

The God that chose this noble few to stay 

The Westward march of Moslem faith and pow'r; 

Ordained that man to mankind should display 
Their embers as an ever-chast'ning dow'r. 



25 Musings of a Mariner 

To teach the cynical, the base, the proud. 

That hfe is but a transitory breath; 
And he who gains a martyr's humble shroud. 

Shall win the greatest triumph over death. 

The errant Christian with the infidel 

May scorn this weird memorial to scan. 
And yet, no monument could e'er excel 

This symbol of the Brotherhood of Man. 

And she who by the chancel entrance stands — 
To Florence Nightingale a worthy peer — 

Her noble life the gratitude of man commands; 
The "Red Cross" of today was cradled here. 

And whilst, deep-awed, within their midst I stand, 
Their wasting frames transform before my eyes; 
And in the quick, I see that gallant band 
'Mid scenes which marked their passing, now arise. 



THE CROSS AND THE CRESCENT 

or 

THE SIEGE OF MALTA 

Part II 

FIOR DEL MONDO AND ITS FLAG 

Their dark, liquid eyes are a-beaming again 
On Fior del Mondo their sea-girt domain; 
Their picturesque island, to them seems to be 
The loveliest gem of that gem-studded sea. 

The waves are caressing its time-chiseled shore, 
A gentle levanter its bosom plays o'er. 

And nodding, the sulla^ now seemingly plumes 
On charms it displays to the breeze it perfumes. 

lA species of red clover. 



Musings of a Mariner 26 

Profusely the flowers in redolence blow. 

The bee and the butterfly flit to and fro; 
A Sabbath-like stillness appears to prevail, 
But Ah ! 'tis the calm that's preceding the gale. 

Unruffled the sea and unclouded the sky. 

In depths of their sapphirine colorings vie; 
While over St. Elmo their flag is revealed. 
The white cross of Malta upon a red field. 

The flag of the Cross and the Knights of St. John, 
The flag of the island 'tis waving upon; 

A flag by all Christendom loved and revered, 

A flag by the Ottomen hated and feared. 

'Twas borne to the breeze in humanity's cause. 

Its followers pledged to fraternity's laws; 
Yet often beneath it was cruelty traced, 
Tho' seldom by cowardice was it disgraced. 

At Acre and Cyprus, at Rhodes and at Crete 

Its glory grew brighter altho' in retreat; 
And then over Malta at length 'twas unfurled 
Its Mission to fill to the Christianized world. 

And now as they gaze on it waving on high, 

The light of affection illumes ev'ry eye; 

And once more there comes from those lips so long mute 
Their world-famous watchword of "Dieu le Vieut!" 

God wills it! God wills it! and all seem to feel 

As shadows of evening over them steal, 

The time is at hand when their life-blood must flow 
Defending their Faith 'gainst the infidel foe. 

Their forces are marshaled, their vigils are set, 
And led by their Grand Master De la Valette, 
To the church of the convent they slowly repair, 
God's aid to implore in repentance and prayer. 



27 Musings of a Mariner 

How solemn and touching this comphne appears! 

These brave men renewing in penitent tears 

Their vows to their God to comply with His ban 
To die for the Faith and the welfare of man. 

Their orisons ended, they slowly depart. 
With worldly allurements exiled from the heart; 
Exalted, resigned to whate'er be their loss 
In fighting the siege of the Crescent and Cross. 



THE CROSS AND THE CRESCENT 

or 

THE SIEGE OF MALTA 

Part III 

THE SIEGE 

Slowly the curtain of night is withdrawn. 
Softly admitting the blush of the dawn; 
Brighter and higher its colors arise, 
Tinting the waves and the orient skies. 
Smiling and peaceful the morning awakes, 
Earth, still reposing, its beauty partakes; 
But with its greater light clearly betrays 
Solyman's fleet to the sentinel's gaze. 

Tranquil in slumber lies Malta's fair isle. 
Heedless of danger, or morning's bright smile; 
When from St. Elmo the warning gun's boom 
Wakes them from sleep to advise of their doom. 
Many are roused by the sound of that gun 
Feeling their last peaceful slumber is done; 
Others so curious cannot forego 
Longings to gain but a look at the foe. 

Over that classic sea spreading afar 
Slowly approach the great galleys of war; 



Musings of a Mariner 28 

Wafted along to these coveted shores 

By the levanter, to rhythm of oars. 
Doubly imposing they seem to appear 
As to the island they closely draw near; 

So that the sentries can clearly descry 

Flags of the Crescent a-waving on high. 

Then from the Castle a banner's unfurled. 
Flag of the Cross of the Christianized world; 

Flaunting defiance abroad to the foe, 

Cheering its gallant defenders below; 
Who in deep reverence mutely stand there 
Watching its folds as they rise on the air; 

Then comes this shout from the lips that were mute: 

"Viva Valette!" and "Dieu le Vieut! !" 

Solemn the face of Valette appeared 
When he uncovered upon being cheered; 

Still on his features no fear was expressed 

When his brave Knights he thus briefly addressed: 
"Brothers, 'tis willed by our Heavenly Liege 
Cross against Crescent must meet in this siege; 

Vic' try or death is the meed we shall gain; 

Spare not your lives, then, the faith to maintain." 

Calmly the Christians their foemen await 
Wholly resigned to whate'er be their fate. 

All are prepared their attack to repel, 

Officers, soldiers, and women as well. 
Lightly they hold not the strength of their foe 
For their fierce valor but too well they know; 

Vastly outnumbered they enter the fray 

Trusting in God and His will they obey. 

And with the Moslems no fear is betrayed; 

Banners are waving and music is played; 
Shouting and cheering, the isle they infest. 
Feeling their deeds by great Allah are blest. 



2g Musings of a Mariner 

Bright as the Sun's golden beam is their smile 

But they disparage their foes of this isle; 
Even Mustapha, who holds the command, 
Knows not the strength of this God-fearing band. 

Gorgeous the spectacle that they present 
When the bright Sun of the ev'ning had lent 
Brilliant reflection to banners and shields 
Now overspreading the vineyards and fields. 
Formidable tho' their great armies appear 
Still in the Christian breast wakens no fear. 
Faith in the justice of God and His laws 
Seem to assure the success of their cause. 

Scarcely Mustapha St. Elmo had viewed 
When he gave orders the fort be subdued. 

Marching his forces to Sceberras Crest 

Quickly the fort he prepares to divest. 
Cannons are mounted and trenches are formed, 
Then the great fortress is heavily stormed. 

Ravelin and counterscarp crumble away 

'Neath their assaults in the terrible fray. 

But the brave Christians their efforts defy, 

Ev'ry attack meets a worthy reply; 

Cheer answers cheer and gun answers gun. 
Gains by the Moslems are most dearly won. 

Not for a moment a fear is betrayed 

E'en when the fort by their carnage is swayed; 
Nor in their efforts a weakness revealed 
When they perceive that their doom's surely sealed. 

Louder and fiercer the conflict now grows 
As 'round the fortress the Mussulmen close; 

Thunder of cannon and bursting of shells, 

Hissing of missiles and agonized yells, 
Rattle of musketry and a wild cheer 
Blend in the tumult when, fighting, appear 

Over the ramparts and into the fosse 

Mingle the soldiers of Crescent and Cross. 



Musings of a Mariner 30 

Fiercely their struggles thro' four weeks extend 
Yet the brave Christians their fortress defend; 

Then other foemen appear on the scene 

Headed by Dragut the brave Algerine. 
Under his guidance the fort they invest 
Mounting great guns on the point to the West;^ 

Also a battery that would prevent 

Aid or supplies to the fort to be sent. 

Then off the harbor assembles the fleet 
Making St. Elmo's investment complete; 

Hemmed by a circle of fire and steel, 

Causing the gallant defenders to feel 
No earthly power can render them aid, 
Nor can their certain doom long be delayed. 

Yet they give way not to fear or despair, 

True to their pledges their fate they will bear. 

Across the Great Port the Grand Master Valette 

Views their sad plight with remorse and regret; 
Long had he prayed that the fort might survive 
Blows of the Moslems 'til aid would arrive. 

Firmly his soldiers he thus would exhort: 

"All shall be lost if we hold not that fort!" 
And altho' vict'ry's still crowning their lot, 
Well he imagines how dearly 'twas bought. 

But he despairs not, nor tries to conceal 
Facts that conditions so clearly reveal. 

Vast is the Moslem force 'gainst him arrayed 

Yet he depends not on promises made 
By the Sicilians that aid would be sent 
By the great powers their fall to prevent. 

Faith in his Master, alone, does not fail. 

And in his men the same feelings prevail. 

Fiercely the guns of St. Michael had roared 
Causing sad havoc with Solyman's horde; 

iNow called Point Dragut. 



3 1 Musings of a Mariner 

Deadlier still does St. Angelo's speak, 

And upon Dragut a death-vengeance wreak. 
Yet the attacks of their foes are not stayed; 
Ceaseless their guns on St. Elmo are played; 

Tearing the counterscarp, ravelin and walls, 

Filling the fosse with debris as it falls. 

Sweeping like waves on a storm-beaten coast 
Roll tow'rd St. Elmo the infidel host; 

Filling the breaches their carnage had made 

Fiercely the fortress they now escalade; 
But the besieged on the ramparts appear 
Fully determined their lives to sell dear; 

Firm and undaunted that brave little band 

Ev'ry assault of their foemen withstand. 

Thrice the besieging horde rush the attack, 

Thrice by the Christians they're forced to fall back; 

'Til overcome by their toil and the heat 

Sullen the infidels sound a retreat. 
Led by Miranda their brave chevalier 
Feebly the Christians awaken a cheer; 

'Waken a cheer that appears a farewell, 

And to their friends, like a funeral knell. 

Those at II Borgo v/ere stricken with grief 

When they had failed to afford them relief. 
Still on St. Elmo in sorrow they gaze 
'Til it appears thro' the gloom and the haze 

Like a dark sepulchre soon to entomb 

Flowers of chivalry cut in their bloom. 

Then with their sabres upraised tow'rd the sky 
Swear that their comrades in vain shall not die. 

Calmly the doomed for their fate now prepare, 

Spending the night in repentance and pray'r; 
Cheering the dying, consoling the maimed, 
'Til the first tints of the morning proclaimed 

All must prepare their last struggle to face; 

So after taking a farewell embrace. 



Musings of a Mariner 32 

All to their posts on the ramparts repair; 
Even the wounded prefer dying there. 

Howling like wolves when attacking a fold 

Come the fierce Moslems in numbers untold; 
Over the ruins by carnage laid bare. 
Right thro' the breaches in frenzy they tear. 

But the brave Christians, with God-given strength, 

Ev'ry assault they repel, till at length 
Corpses of soldiers of Crescent and Cross 
Litter the ramparts and choke up the fosse. 

Bravely the Christians three hours withstand 
All the onslaughts of that bloodthirsty band; 

Then overcome, they disgrace not their breath 

Asking for quarter; they fight to the death! 
Never a fortress more bravely was lost. 
Fruitless the vict'ry and fearful the cost! 

'Tis but a ruin the Crescent floats on. 

Briefly supplanting the flag of St. John. 

Now is Mustapha's true nature displayed 
By his exaction of vengeance delayed; 

Tortures that none but a fiend could incite 

Fall on the martyrs surviving the fight; 
And in derision the form of the Cross 
Deeply is slashed on their breasts, ere they toss 

Over the ramparts and into the port 

Those who defended the Faith and the fort. 

Well may Valette shed tears of regret 
When by the current their bodies are set 

O'er to II Borgo, so shamefully torn, 

Mutely to tell of the wrongs they have borne. 
And of their comrades to make a request 
That in the scabbard their swords shall not rest 

While unavenged their sad fates shall remain. 

Or while the Moslems St. Elmo retain. 



23 Musings of a Mariner 



Loudly the Ottomen troops are extolling 

Allah on high for the victory gained; 
Sadly the bells of the Christians are tolling 

Over the losses their cause has sustained; 
But these brave hearts to their chapels repairing 

Bow to the will of their Master above; 
Faith in His justice exiles their despairing. 

Death has no sting if they die in His love. 

Solemn and sweetly the music is stealing, 

Touching the heart-strings of soldier and knight; 
Who at their altars in penitence kneeling 

Feel a dispersion of grief in their plight; 
Feel that, altho' by all mankind forsaken, 

God in His mercy condones for their loss; 
Faith in His power and aid is not shaken, 

Vict'ry must crown their defense of the Cross. 

Nor do the men share alone these devotions, 

Malta's fair daughters are there by their side, 
Bravely concealing their tend'rest emotions. 

Calmly the mandates of God they abide. 
Heedless of danger where missiles are flying. 

Aiding and cheering the men in the fray; 
Soothing and comforting wounded and dying, 

Traits of the angel and knight they display. 

But on my vision a form is appearing 

Whose saintly features in sadness are set; 
Ev'ry expression is firm and endearing: 

'Tis the Grand Master John De la Valette. 
Bravest of Knights! by all Nations forsaken. 

Hurls at his foemen a fearless defy; 
Counsels his men that the vows they have taken 

Make them a unit, to conquer or die. 

Firmly rejecting all terms of surrender. 
Then he prepares all attacks to repel; 



Musings of a Mariner 34 

Now he's exhorting his men to remember 

How at St. Elmo their brave brothers fell; 
And that a similar fate shall o'ertake them 

If they give way to despair for their loss. 
God is their refuge; He will not forsake them; 

They are His own chosen Knights of the Cross. 

Deeply chagrined at Valette's reply 

Once more Mustapha accepts his defy. | 

Left no alternative now but to fight, 

Quickly resolves to allow no respite. 
Every vantage point he had attained, 
Ev'ry available gun had been trained 

So's to admit not of aid or retreat; 

Making II Borgo's investment complete. 

Ranged to Mount Corradin from Salvador 
Trenches and ramparts were formed long before. 

Guns from all quarters II Borgo beset; 

While overland from the port of Musette 
Galleys transported, equipped and all manned. 
Lie well concealed at the opposite strand 

Waiting the signal to make an attack: 

Th' Spur to besiege and La Sangle to sack. 

Scarcely the Sun its full orb had displayed 
When by two cannon the signal is made; 

Meaning assaults should be frontal and rear; 

So on the harbor the galleys appear. 
Forming a spectacle grand and sublime; 
And by two boats they are led for a time 

Bearing their holy men who loudly chant 

Pray'rs that great Allah would victory grant. 

Now on the Spur as the Othmen draw near 
Knights from the fort of St. Michaels appear; 

Followed by men of unquestioned repute 

Shouting their watchword of "Dieu le vieut!" 



35 Musings of a Mariner 

Cheering the name of Grand Master Valette 

Whose precious counsel they do not forget; 
While in their bosoms a vengeance they feel 
Waked by their dead brothers' silent appeal. 

Onward the Moslems come 'til they are stayed 
By a rude palisade sailors have made; 

Then to their waists thro' the water they wade 

Up to the walls 'neath a fierce fusilade. 
And as their cheers on the morning air blend 
Boiling pitch, flaming hoops on them descend. 

Roasted Turk, basted Turk gobble and shriek 

As the defenders a just vengeance wreak. 

Still the fierce Turks in their efforts prevail, 
Fully determined the bastion to scale; 

But their endeavors the ramparts to gain 

Prove quite as costly, as futile and vain. 
Ponderous missiles of iron and stone 
By the defenders upon them are thrown, 

'Til an explosion takes place in the fort 

Spreading a pall over rampart and port. 

In the confusion that follows, the Turks 
Gain a strong hold on the fort's outer works; 

But the defenders are soon in pursuit 

Raising their war-cry of "Dieu le vieut!" 
Fiercer and fiercer the battle they wage 
As on more equal terms now they engage. 

"Death to the infidels!" Ottomen cry. 

"Death to the infidels!" Christians reply. 

Now on the harbor ten galleys appear 
Which for La Sangle more northerly steer; 

And when in range there emits a report 

From a low batt'ry in Angelo's fort. 
Mixed were the charges and true was the aim, 
Fearful the tollage those rude missiles claim. 



Musings of a Mariner 36 

Nine of the galleys are shattered in twain, 
Filling the harbor with wounded and slain. 

Still on the Spur is the struggle maintained 

And neither side an advantage had gained. 
But not for long la Valette delayed 
Sending fresh troops to the garrison's aid; 

Who reinforced, with fresh vigor attack. 

Driving the now weakened Musselmen back 
Over the ramparts and into the tide. 
Which by their life-blood in crimson is dyed. 

Some meet their fate at the base of the wall. 

Others for mercy on bended knees fall; 
But the defenders all mercy deny, 
"Such as you showed at St. Elmo," they cry. 

Vengeance is reeking on every breath, 

Nought can appease retribution but death. 
Nor do they cease to administer blows 
While there's a Turk on the Spur to oppose. 

Flushed with their vict'ry they rush to the rear 
Where hard-beset the defenders appear; 

Shouting their war-cry their comrades they reach — 

Sweeping the infidels clear of the breach; 
Who all disorganized flee in despair 
And to their trenches are forced to repair. 

Now in II Borgo not one voice is mute; 

All shouting: — "Victory! Dieu le vieut!" 

But no despair do the Moslems betray 
For on II Borgo their cannon still play. 

Sapping and mining the walls in the back 

'Til they are ready to make the attack. 
All is prepared and the day has been set. 
So is the Grand Master De la Valette; 

Who in his work seems to take no repose; 

Every move of his foemen he knows. 



37 Musings of aMariner 

Two weeks have passed since that battle was won, 
And on St. Michaels another's begun; 

But the resistance the Ottomen meet 

Cause them another most costly defeat. 
Then in assaulting the bastion Castile, 
Once more the sting of reverses they feel. 

Even Piali who leads in this fray 

Bows to the spirit the Christians display. 

Under the bastion a mine now is sprung. 
And in the breaches their forces are flung. 

But their advance by the Christians is met 

Let by their Grand Master De la Valette. 
Now to the gen'ral alarm that is rung. 
Hasten to aid him the old and the young; 

Soldiers, civilians, the women and all; 

Even the wounded respond to the call. 

Cheering his men 'mid the fallen and slain 
Gallant Valette will not entertain 

Prayers and remonstrances not to expose 

His precious life to attacks of his foes. 
To their entreaties he'd only reply: 
"What death's more glorious than for to die 

'Midst my dear people who count not their loss 

In their defense of the Faith and the Cross." 

Over the bastion the Crescent now floats — 

Othmen are swarming within the redoubts; 
Only to meet with a firm human wall 
That all the Moslem force cannot appall. 

Nerved by the words of their noble Valette 

'Gainst the invaders in fury they set; 

Soon thro' the breach the besiegers are borne. 
And from the bastion the Crescent is torn. 

But undismayed they return to the fight 
Veiled in their charge by the darkness of night. 



Musings of a Mariner 38 

But the bright lights of the carnage reveal 

Every move they had hoped to conceal. 
And at the breaches the Christians await 
Once more the plans of their foes to frustrate; 

Once more compelling a hasty retreat, 

Once more inflicting a costly defeat. 

Now as the dawn of the morning is breaking, 

Ere the bright Sun spreads his beams on the sky. 
From their short slumbers the Christians are waking, 

Offering thanks to their Master on high. 
And on St. Lawrence the bells are a-ringing 

Bidding them all to the church to repair; 
Now in contrition Te Deums they're singing, I 

Humbly invoking God's mercy in pray'r. " 

Heavy the crosses the Christians are bearing — 

Sorrows profound in their bosoms awake; 
But the Redeemer their burdens is sharing: 

Mankind alone will the worthy forsake. 
And in this hour of deepest affliction 

Worldly allurements they now relegate: 
Kneeling they humbly receive benediction. 

Wholly resigned to their evident fate. 

Tho' the besieged are reduced to such straits. 
Far worse a fate on the Othmen awaits. 

As all their efforts disastrously fail, 

Greater dissensions among them prevail. 
Carnage is fast decimating their roll. 
Sickness is also exacting its toll; 

And to Mustapha at ev'ry defeat 

Looms on his vision a shameful defeat. 

Thinner and thinner their lines daily grow. 
Weaker and weaker the blows they bestow; 

Baffled in every assault that they make. 

Well may their courage their bosoms forsake. 



39 Musings of a Mariner 

Few are the Christians not wounded, nor shrived; 
But their deliv'rance at length has arrived. 

Aid, for which hopes for a long time were spent. 

By the Sicilian viceroy was sent. 

Hopelessly beaten Mustapha departs 

'Mid the rejoicing of all Christian hearts; 
Soldiers and ships badly shattered and torn 
Sail in disgrace for their own Golden Horn. 

Half of that force the defenders repelled 

Rest on this island — uncoffined, unknelled. 
And of the Christians let's tell not their loss 
In that great siege of the Crescent and Cross. 

Once more the bells on St. Lawrence are ringing 

Bidding them all to the church to repair; 
Now all exultant, Te Deums they're singing, 

Joyous Hosannas resound on the air. 
Over St. Elmo again there is waving 

Proudly the flag of the Knights of St. John; 
But the brave Christians no longer are craving 

Vengeance for those who once suffered thereon. 

And on my vision again there's appearing 

One whom no Christian should ever forget; 
Gentle, forbearing, devout and God-fearing: 

'Tis their Grand Master John De la Valette. 
Wholly abandoned by all Christian nations. 

Yet in his trials he did not complain; 
God-like he gave to unborn generations 

Teachings that every soul should attain. 



Musings of a Mariner 40 

THE CROSS AND THE CRESCENT 

or 

THE SIEGE OF MALTA 

l'envoy 

My vision slowly fails, 

And once again I gaze 
Upon the "Flower of the World" 

Of these enlightened days. 

A peaceful stillness reigns; 

The sea quiescent lies; 
And o'er this lovely scene the sun 

Beams from unclouded skies: 

The anniversary 

Of that historic day. 
When Cross and Crescent first engaged 

In that immortal fray. 

What changes have transpired 

Its traces to efface! 
'Tis now the grandest gem that's held 

Within this sea's embrace. 

Where Corsair Dragut fell 

A noble city^ rose; 
And in its midst the great Valette 

And his brave knights repose. 

This sightly, terraced town 

Perpetuates his name; 
This monument of peaceful homes 

Commemorates his fame. 

iValetta. 



4 1 Musings of a Mariner 

His noble order's gone; 

Apparently 'twas willed 
By Him, Grand Master over all. 

Its mission was fulfilled. 

And now St. George's Cross 

Floats peacefully upon 
St. Elmo's fort where long had waved 

The banner of St. John. 

A mighty stronghold still; 

In which I can divine 
The spirit of the great Valette 

Small make a Christian shrine. 

And of his gallant knights, 

Who fell within that fray. 
To those who would adversely speak — 

Concluding, I would say: — 

Their faults were of the flesh 
And with the flesh have passed; 

Their noble traits were of the soul 
And with the soul shall last. 



ADARA 

A TALE OF THERA 

Within the West the god of day 

His rarest colorings unfold; 
While o'er the sea he spreads a ray, 

A seeming path of liquid gold. 
Upon the heights of Thera's isle 

The ev'ning shadows grow apace; 
And youth and aged seek the while 

Their welcome coolness to embrace. 



Musings of a Mariner 42 

Beside a lone and lowly cot 

A mile outside of Thera's wall, 
A sightly and sequestered spot, 

Where ev'ning shadows early fall. 
An aged man enjoys a rest 

From all intruding mortals free; 
With head inclined upon his breast 

And thoughts absorbed in reverie. 
A form athletic that betrays 

A dang'rous foe when in his youth; 
His eyes, deep-set, emit a gaze 

Indicative of force and truth; 
His strong and kindly face is sered 

By sunbeams of a tropic land; 
A person to be loved and feared; 

The kind that's fitted to command. 

He seems a statue sitting there, 

So deeply is he wrapped in thought; 
And when appears a youth most fair. 

He fails to hear, or heeds him not. 
At length the youth the silence breaks: 

"Pray pardon sire! this fault of mine." 
The hermit from his dreaming wakes. 

And kindly answers: "Peace be thine." 
"The youthful step is lightly made, 

I heard thee not at thy approach; 
Pray share my rest within the shade 

Upon Demeter's verdant couch. 
I see thou art a stranger here. 

With minstrel garb as thy attire; 
But pardon me, it does appear 

The sword befits thee more than lyre." 
The minstrel answered with a smile: — 

"I handle either passing well; 
But would'st of thee and this fair isle 

Some pleasing anecdotes pray tell?" 



43 Musings of a Mariner 

The aged hermit then replied: — 

"My birthplace was the town of Tyre, 
And oft in youth, like thee, I tried 

My skill in handling lance and lyre. 
My form was not unlike thine own, 

And care sat lightly on me then; 
The fear of combat was unknown; 

I reveled in the feats of men. 
Altho' my strength has nearly sped, 

I still review those days with joy; 
Thou knowest it is tritely said: 

'We're once a man and twice a boy.' 
Without a hope to lure me on 

I seem to live within the past. 
I've nothing now to dote upon, 

And youthful mem'ries longest last. 

"Phoenician blood was in my veins; 

Adventure, hence, appealed to me; 
My race apparently maintains 

A love insatiate for the sea. 
'Twas at a very early age 

I was appointed to command. 
And with rare skill did I engage 

A fearless and a faithful band. 
My galley was of matchless mould. 

Propelled by fifty oars and sail; 
No other could her speed uphold; 

We scorned alike the foe and gale. 
In warlike or in peaceful feats 

We always were outclassed by none; 
And often we encountered fleets 

Where vict'ries were not lightly won. 
Within the hearts of all my men 

A sympathetic feeling ran; 
My slightest wish, or order, then 

Found quick response in ev'ry man. 



Musings of a Mariner 44 

"Ah! those were happy days to me; 

And o'er them still I muse with pride. 
The perils of the stormy sea — 

How wantonly I did deride. 
Alike to me were calm and blast, 

I courted but the fav'ring breeze; 
'Twas wafted on by one I passed. 

The Pillars of great Hercules. 
I ne'er beheld a sight, I think. 

Which did my soul so much enhance, 
As when I first saw Helios sink 

Within that vast, unknown expanse. 
Poseidon's spirit fired me — 

I seemed to be his favored son; 
I longed to solve the mystery 

That other men with fear did shun. 

"The luring hopes my mind constrained 

Admitted not of any rest. 
Until fair Geddir^ we had gained; 

That opal jewel of the West. 
Phoenicia may point with pride 

To Carthage and Cyrene, yet 
Her brightest gem's set in the tide 

Where waves of that vast ocean fret. 
But there we did not tarry long, 

All peace of mind from me had flown; 
I seemed to hear a siren's song 

That called me to that vast unknown. 

"We put to sea with joy elate 

And toward the West we boldly steered; 
We seemed to reck not of our fate, — 

Not ev'n when Span had disappeared. 
For days we sailed 'neath smiling skies. 

While leading winds did aid our flight; 
Our course shaped by two deities 

Great San^ by day, Adar at night. 

iCadiz. 

2In Chaldean Mythology San was their Sun god, Adar the god of the stars. 



45 Musings of a Mariner 

I still recall with righteous pride 

My feelings of intense delight, 
That lovely morning we descried 

Five lofty isles^ appear in sight. 

**One towered high above the rest,^ 

A form of graceful symmetry; 
A fleecy wreath lay on its crest; 

A crown of rare sublimity. 
Each seemed a mighty sentinel 

Placed there by Zeus to guard the seas, 
And any man's intent repel 

To seek, or solve his mysteries. 
Their sides were clad with shrubs and trees, 

And fragrant flow'rs profusely bloomed; 
E'en out at sea we found the breeze 

By their sweet odors were perfumed. 
But not a living soul was there 

Our landings to repel, or greet; 
The only things disturbed the air 

Were murm'ring surf and songsters sweet. 

"About those isles we held sojourn 

For several days, then salhed forth; 
And soon we faintly could discern 

Two smaller islands^ farther North. 
They stood there at their lonely posts 

Repellent, yet alluring fair; 
We found upon their rugged coasts 

No place of perfect shelter there. 
About these isles short time was spent, 

When sky and sea were strangely stirred; 
We felt it was a warning sent 

The wrath of Zeus we had incurred. 
And soon the storm in fury broke, 

The winds and waves did madly clash; 
Some islands belching fire and smoke 

To thunder's peal and lightning's flash. 

lAzores. ^pi^o. 

^Flores and Corvo. Phoenician coins have been found on Corvo which 
proves they came this far West. 



Musings of a Mariner 



Poseidon then did mercy show; 

He is indulgent with the brave; 
And safely on our galley flew 

Before the blast and roaring wave. 
He then commanded Aeolus 

His fearful anger to allay; 
And calmed again the sea to us, 

And sped us on our homeward way. 
Until this day when I behold 

Great Helios sinking in the seas, 
I wonder when he will unfold 

To man his wondrous mysteries." 

A light had filled the minstrel's eyes 

He tried, but vainly, to conceal. 
Far deeper feelings than surprise 

His noble features now reveal. 
At length, in tones subdued, he said: — 

"Thy pardon, sire, I do implore. 
But if my fancy's not misled. 

Of thy exploits I've heard before. 
Thy course upon that mystic sea 

Some unborn hero yet will trace. 
And thy great deeds shall always be 

An inspiration to thy race. 
Thy case to me doth strange appear; 

So would'st thou kindly but relate 
How camest thou to settle here. 

And why in this secluded state?" 

"My son," the sage then made reply, 

"A mighty favor thou dost ask. 
Yet thy request I'll not deny; 

Altho' it is a painful task. 
When I regained the port of Tyre 

All banners to the breeze were flung; 
My fame was spread abroad like fire. 

My name was soon on ev'ry tongue. 



47 Musings of a Mariner 

The humble with the mighty vied 

In paying homage to me then; 
And ev'ry portal opened wide 

To welcome me and my brave men. 
But feted life soon irksome grew; 

The roving spirit in me burned 
I longed my ventures to renew, 

So Westward once again I turned. 

"We reached this isle without event; 

This fated isle! it seems to me 
That by great Zeus I here was sent 

To shape my future destiny. 
It long had been a favored bower 

Where all the gods were wont to dwell; 
Here Hades oft assailed the power 

Of Hea^ and of mighty Bel.^ 
Its form was once of perfect mold; 

This harbor was a crater then; 
Here gods alone could sojourn hold; 

It was debarred to mortal men. 
'Til Hades in an angry mood 

Its graceful form cleft deep in twain; 
Then 'gainst the vast inrushing flood 

He sent his forces to restrain. 
The earth to its foundations quaked — 

The voice of conflict loudly roared; 
The fire of Hades was unslaked 

As thro' the clefts the waters poured. 
For four long days the struggle raged. 

Nor was the god-like pageant stayed, 
Or Hades' fearful wrath assuaged, 

'Til Belus came to Hea's aid. 
And often since his slumb'ring rage 

Has sent aloft its shafts of death; 
And even at this present age 

These newborn isles^ exude his breath. 

iHea is here addressed as the Chaldean "Lord of the Sea." 

^Bel as the "Lord of the World." 

*The Burnt Isles. See Santorin Ency. Britannica. 



Musings of a Mariner 48 

"I found upon arrival here 

My name and fame preceded me. 
The populace it would appear 

Regarded me a deity. 1 

And here as at all other courts f^ 

They paid me homage with a fete, j 

That followed games and other sports ? 

In which we did participate. | 

'Twas at this festival I met ;| 

The lady whom they chose its queen; | 

By birth she was Phoenician, yet i 

By lineage a pure Chaldean. ji 

In form and grace she was the peer ; 

Of any goddess we adore; :; 

Her charms were sung both far and near; > 

Adara was the name she bore. ' 

In rank she far outrivaled me; \ 

But that did not my hopes impair; ■> 

I sued and won the victory: 

'Tis said: 'the brave deserve the fair.' 
I then relinquished my command 

And spent two years of blissful rest; 
Meanwhile our joys were brighter fanned — 

A lovely son our union blessed. 
But ere he learned to call me sire, 

A wave of sorrow o'er us broke; 
'Twas then the gallant sons of Tyre 

Rebelled 'gainst Shalmanesser's yoke. 
I heard their call — I went — I served; 

How well? Why all the world must know; 
Our deeds in hist'ry are preserved — 

They found in us a valiant foe. 

"The struggle o'er, with laurels won 

I hastened back to my estate; 
To find there neither wife nor son; 

My happy home was desolate. 



49 ' Musings of a Mariner 

With meagre clews I then returned. 

And traced her to the traitor's land; 
'Twas at Damasacus I learned 

That she had died by her own hand. 
I could not find what fate befel 

My darling boy. If that to me 
Some mortal agency could tell, 

I feel that death would welcome be. 

"No other solace could I find 

Except what mother Ocean gave; 
And nothing seemed to soothe my mind 

Like combat with the roaring wave. 
I sailed o'er many foreign seas 

'Til age compelled me to retire; 
And here I spend my time in ease 

With musing and my tuneful lyre. 
And when a certain orb of night 

Reveals to me its gentle flame. 
My soul will fill with strange delight; 

It is the star that bears her name. 
I wait here till the Fates decide 

To free my soul, her own to seek." 
Then gazing at the youth he cried: 

"Who art thou errant minstrel? Speak!" 

The youth then modestly replied: — 

"The name I bear is El-Sanib; 
I served King Sargon till he died, 

And now the great Sennacherib." 

"If this be true," the old man cried, 

"To Tyre, I fear, thou art a foe!" 
The minstrel solemnly replied: — 

"My worthy sire, this is not so. 
In her behalf I used my pow'r. 

And many wrongs have righted since; 
I will assure, within an hour 

Thy doubting mind I shall convince." 



Musingsjof a Mariner 50 

"How Cometh then," the sage inquired, 

A minstrel bears so great a name? 
Or, art thou in this garb attired, 

Thereby to hide thy rank and fame?" 
"The minstrel's art," replied the youth, 

"The gods at birth infused in me, 
I scarce could raise the lyre, in truth. 

When I could wake its harmony. 
No sweeter gift can they bestow 

To raise our state above the brute's; 
To it all happiness I owe 

And all my noblest attributes. 

"Throughout my early boyhood days 

I never played a gladsome strain; 
'Twas but the saddest, sweetest lays 

My heart and harp could not refrain. 
The feelings that controlled my soul 

Found like response in ev'ry string; 
One theme alone I did extol. 

And loved exultingly to sing. 
'Twas of the one that gave me birth. 

And reared me with such tender care. 
She shed a ray of Heav'n on earth 

And left me in profound despair. 
One day beside a castle gate 

With patient care I tuned my lyre; 
And then my angel mother's fate 

My inmost soul appeared to fire. 
I touched the strings and from them sprang 

Sweet strains that caused me to rejoice; 
And when of her sad death I sang, 

I seemed possessed of her sweet voice. 
Her gentle soul, it did beseem 

Inspired me to play and sing; 
And when I 'wakened from my dream. 

Before me stood Assyria's King. 



51 Musings of a Mariner 

He stood there deeply wrapped in thought, 
While close beside him stood his son; 

I quickly knelt — his pardon sought — 
To find it was already won. 

" 'Fear not, sweet minstrel boy,' he said, 

'A heart like thine no fear should feel; 
I'd think thou wert of heaven bred, 

If thou did'st not thy birth reveal. 
Arise! my minstrel prince, arise! 

And henceforth share my son's estate; 
Within thy soul a sweetness lies 

That may exalt his earthly fate.' 

"Within his favor I rose higher; 

While by his son I was adored; 
I was his master with the lyre. 

And soon his equal with the sword. 
And since King Sargon passed away 

His noble son's great cares I've shared; 
A princely power now I sway; 

And so to thee my past I've bared." 
Then rising up, his cloak and hood 

He cast upon the verdant sod; 
In princely armour there he stood — 

The image of a demi-god. 
"My name and rank I did betray, 

And soon my revelation's done"; 
Then kneeling, cried: "Thy blessing, pray, 

My sire! I am Adara's son." 

The old man clasped him in his joy. 

And then his voice exultant raised: — ■ 
"My son! my son! my long-lost boy! 

Restored to me ! Ye gods be praised! 
Thy presence and thy speech awoke 

A feeling I can not express; 
It seemed Adara to me spoke — 

So much like hers was thy address. 



Musings of a Mariner 52 

The hopes that I so long sustained 

And fostered with a constant pray'r, 
Are now fulfilled; the gods ordained 

This joy should crown my earthly care. 
My blessings on thee I bestow, 

And crave thee blessings from above, 
And pray thy soul may ne'er forego 

The guidance of thy mother's love. 
And now my son, I beg thee rise; 

I long to hear thee once more speak; 
Pray tell me why in this disguise 

This isle thou wert compelled to seek?" 

" 'Tis by the orders of my King 

That I am here," the son replied; 
*T wore this garb so it might bring 

Admittance otherwise denied. 
It seems it was thy constant pray'r 

That I might be restored to thee; 
While mine has been, I must declare. 

My mother's wrongs avenged might be. 
The wretch that drove her to her fate 

Is lord and master of this place. 
He was a traitor to our state. 

While on his own he brought disgrace. 
He has an ill-begotten son. 

Possessed of giant form and strength; 
Who boasts of evil deeds he's done. 

And whom I hope to meet at length." 

"My noble son," replied the sage, 

"If those fell tyrants be our foe, 
Then man to man, and age to age. 

We'll have revenge before I go. 
Nor shall we have to long await; 

They ride forth in the twilight hour; 
I'll hence prepare to meet my fate 

If they should prove of greater pow'r. 



53 Musings of a Mariner 

I'll don the garb that I have worn 

In latest battles I have fought; 
I'll gird the belt and sword I've borne 

Whene'er a dang'rous foe was sought." 

Then spake the son: "With thy consent. 

Whilst thou art changing thy attire. 
My pent-up feelings I shall vent 

By playing on my tuneful lyre." 
Beneath his gentle, magic touch 

A strain of heav'nly sweetness springs; 
So cadent, so aesthetic! such 

As thrills the heart's most latent strings. 
It speaks of childish innocence 

Ere worldly care and sin are known; 
When Hght of purity intense 

Upon our earthly path is thrown. 
And then he plays a plaintive strain 

Which thrills the heart more deeply still; 
It speaks of mortal care and pain 

When first the human heart they fill. 
He then awakes with greater strength 

A far more touching melody; 
'Twould seem a suffering soul at length- 
Was longing that it might be free. 
And now he strikes the pulsing strings 

With such a force as shakes the lyre; 
It seems a god-like spirit springs 

To spread abroad revengeful ire. 
The strength and beauty of his soul 

Vibrate along the trembling wires; 
Then upward toward the heavens roll 

To voice his wrath 'gainst base desires. 
And then he rests the harp awhile 

Until his feelings are composed; 
His face relaxes in a smile; 

A transposition is disclosed. 



Musings of a Mariner 54 

And now he plays a soothing lay. 

That speaks of rest and vie' try won; 
It softly — sweetly — dies away. 

His soul's great revelation's done. 

He rests his head upon his hands. 

Nor from his musing does he wake, 
'Til by his side his father stands. 

And thus in earnest tones he spake: 
"If thou canst wield with equal skill 

The sword that's sheathed by thy side, 
My doting heart will shortly fill 

With sweet revenge and righteous pride. 
Nor shall we have to long await. 

The harp for sword thou must discard; 
Approaching from the city's gate 

Come traitor, son and body-guard." 

The minstrel laid the lyre aside 

And on his father turned to gaze; 
And then in adoration cried: — 

"Ye gods ! accept my humble praise. 
From thee what wondrous gifts have fliowed! 

So for thy mercies be adored! 
On me a sire has been bestowed. 

While unto him his son's restored. 
I praise thee that so great a sire 

This soul and body did beget; 
And if I should this day expire — 

This joy shall live etern'ly yet. 

"Thou sayst sire our mighty foes 

Are under escort of a guard? 
A force I'll have, but not expose; 

Let no precaution be debarred!" 
He takes a bugle from his side 

And blows a call both sharp and clear; 
And scarcely has its echo died 

When twenty of his men appear. 



^^ Musings of a Mariner 



"Conceal yourselves behind this wall, 

Where you may see, yet not be seen; 
My sword upraised shall be your call!" 

Thus spoke the prince in tones serene. 
Then turning to his father, said: 

*T have at hand a chosen band 
Who oft with me in battle shed 

A glory o'er their native land. 

"The gods ordain that I should be 

Obedient to thy guiding hand; 
But now I do implore of thee, 

Allow me to assume command. 
And in return a right I'll waive 

That I have sought with pray'rful breath, 
Yet feel how deeply thou must crave; 

Thou shalt avenge Adara's death! 
And should thy goodly efforts fail — 

A double vengeance shall be mine; 
And if my sword should not avail — 

The task to others I'll assign. 

"And we must now assume disguise 

That shall awake the tyrant's wrath; 
And when his anger shall arise 

We'll beard the villain in his path. 
Thy feelings and thy own disguise 

I must constrain thee to withhold 
Until before the traitor's eyes 

His offspring's fate I shall unfold. 
Thy vic'try shall be easier won. 

And thy revenge be more complete; 
But now our speech must be restrained, 

I hear the sound of horses' feet." 

The tyrant gained the cot to find 
Two vagrant forms beside the door; 

And both apparently inclined 
His royal presence to ignore. 



Musings of a Mariner 56 

"Base vermin!" roared the traitor's son, 

"Prostrate thyselves! for mercy pray! 
Or by the steed I sit upon 

Thy scurvy bodies we shall flay!" 
The prince arose, and thus replied: — 

"The humble cloak may mask a King; 
While one that's in the purple dyed 

May clothe the most abhorrent thing. 
I bend the knee to gods alone; 

So now, dismount! make good thy vaunt! 
For unto thee I will make known 

No braggart's boast my heart can daunt!" 

And when three paces he'd retired, 

His minstrel garb he cast aside. 
The tyrant's courage then transpired; 

He tried by ruse his fear to hide. 
"Imposter, doubly-masked," cried he, 

"A double torture shall be thine. 
Ho, guards! arrest this prodigy. 

And place him under close confine!" 

The prince then quickly drew his sword 

And raised its glittering blade on high; 
And o'er the wall his armed horde 

Appeared, the villains to defy. 
"Thy ruse has failed," exclaimed the prince, 

"So send thy menials to the rear! 
Thy treach'rous act to me evince 

Thy father's spirit thou dost share. 
Dismount! my vaunted Hercules! 

What is't that quakes thy massive frame? 
Why surely thou canst quell with ease 

The vermin that assails thy fame." 
The anger'd wretch dismounting, drew. 

And at the prince he madly lunged; 
He tripped, and by his foeman flew. 

And in the earth his falchion plunged. 

1 



57 Musings of a Mariner 

The prince, at ease, stood on his guard, 
And smiHng on the lordling, said: — 

"I fear thou'lt find the delving hard; 
Pray, let thy guardsmen dig my bed." 

The traitor quickly gained his feet 

And at the prince again he dashed; 
Who feinted but a slight retreat, 

And then their swords in battle clashed. 
It plainly could be seen at length 

The wretch was at the prince's will; 
For tho* he was possessed of strength 

The latter showed the greater skill. 
Each mighty thrust the villain made 

Was parried with apparent ease; 
And soon his feelings were betrayed 

In pallid face and quaking knees. 
And then the prince appeared transposed; 

A sterner look his face expressed; 
He quickly with his foeman closed. 

And pierced the corslet on his breast. 
A quick retreat — a subtle feint — 

And then a thrust so deftly made; 
He put an end to all constraint; 

He had bereft him of his blade. 

The villain stood in abject fear, 

And more belabored seemed to breathe; 
He felt that death to him was near, 

Until the prince his sword did sheathe; 
And turning to his vanquished foe. 

These words he solemnly addressed: — 
"A soldier's death I'll not bestow 

On one by fear and vice obsessed. 
A fate in keeping with thy crime 

A legal power shall ordain; 
Thy princely person for a time 

'Neath our protection shall remain." 



Musings of a Mariner 58 

Then turning to his captive's sire, 

His voice assumed a sterner tone: 
"Inhuman wretch! I now desire 

Thy disposition to make known. 
Too many are thy fiendish deeds 

For mortals to enumerate; 
But one alone thou soon must needs 

In deadly strife to expiate. 
The plot was consummated well; 

Yet all thy machinations failed. 
My lips have not the power to tell 

What suffering that crime entailed. 
'Tis unto him who thou didst wrong 

That thou shalt answer for this deed; 
And thy suspense I'll not prolong; 

Dismount! at once, from off thy steed!" 
Then turning to his father said: — 

"Arise my sire! Thou canst unmask; 
'Tis not with feelings now of dread 

That I consign thee to thy task." 

The aged hero quickly rose 

And cast aside his tattered cloak; 
And so commanding was his pose. 

He seemed a god when thus he spoke: — 
"As mortals sow, so shall they reap; 

Their acts shall yield them like returns; 
And none shall gain a peaceful sleep , 

While fire of retribution burns. '; 

And he who by his acts incur i 

The wrath of gods and mortals too, i 

Must surely at the end infer 

A punishment is justly due. 
On thee, dispoiler of my home, — j 

Who aimed a goddess to defile, | 

And caused her seek in heaven's dome | 

Protection from a crime so vile, — 



59 Musings of a Mariner 

The deities at length demand 

A retribution for the deed, 
And have decreed that by my hand 

Thy lustful, treach'rous heart must bleed." 

The frenzied wretch his falchion drew, 

And by the gods of darkness swore : — 
"I'll grant the reparation due. 

Thou famous Tyrian Navitor!" 
And then their swords in battle clashed; 

But quicker than a durant breath 
The hero's blade like lightning flashed. 

And had avenged Adara's death. 
Unheeding him he overthrew. 

He stood with eyes upraised on high; 
And then the wretch a dagger drew, 

And slightly graced the hero's thigh. 
"Thou hadst revenge," the villain cried, 

"And so have I; for when I smote. 
I put a poison in thy side 

That yields not to an antidote." 

"What thou hast claimed I lightly hold," 

The aged hero then replied; 
" 'Twill end the sins against me told 

Whilst thou in crime art deeper dyed. 
My life has been an interlude 

Devoid of any joyous strain 
Since thou so basely did intrude 

Its sacred tenets to profane. 
Thy latest crime will reunite 

My soul with hers enthroned on high; 
It hastens but my spirit's flight 

For gods of love to deify. 
I feel that in this awful hour 

All mortal enmity should cease; 
So I shall manifest my power 

To have thy soul depart in peace. 



Musings of a Mariner 60 

And of the gods for thee I'll crave 

A mercy thou hast never shown; 
And may'st thou find beyond the grave 

A peace thy life has never known." 

The traitor faintly answered then: — 
"How great is thy forgiving grace; 
The wrongs I did thee, prince of men, 

would some power could efface! 
But may my dying act atone, 

And with thine own be more condign: 
A princess near Assyria's throne 

In Thera's held in close confine. 
Whate'er my faults, and they are great, 

1 did protect her with my power. 
This key unlocks the outer gate. 

And she's confined within the tower. 
My life — shall now — not long — endure; 

Farewell ! forgive ! I soon — must go. 
Yes, she is pure — so sweet — and pure, 

O, would — to heaven — I were — so." 

The prince appeared as in a dream; 

What had transpired struck him mute; 
But soon this state, it would beseem. 

His speech and actions did refute. 
For turning to his leader, cried: — 

"Here, Tubal! haste thee, mount this steed! 
Take this young Theran as a guide; 

And to the tower hie with speed! 
And bring the princess here to me; 

This key unlocks the outer gate; 
This royal seal thy pass shall be; 

So haste thee! I shall here await. 
Brave Therans! now this corpse remove 

With all respect his rank is due; 
And to thy people I shall prove 

A brighter era shall ensue. 



6 1 Musings of a Mariner 

"Come sire," then he kindly said, 

"Forgive! if I neglect have shown; 
I will assist thee to thy bed, 

And pray all hope has not yet flown." 

"The die is cast," replied the sire, 

"I am beyond all human aid; 
Nor do I cherish one desire 

To have my passing long delayed. 
My strength, like this fair day, is spent; 

I fain would rest where I may see 
Once more the dome of azure blent 

With symbols of eternity. 
Here oft, alone, I have communed 

With those bright spirits of Adar; 
And oft my heart and harp were tuned 

In praises of my guiding star. 
I've had my share of earthly care. 

And also tasted of its bhss; 
But he who has a lov'd one there 

Will crave not for a world like this. 
No counsel unto thee I give, 

Altho' my sands of life are run; 
I only ask that thou wilt live 

As would become Adara's son." 

" 'Twas she, dear sire," the prince replied, 

"That formed the mandates of my soul; 
And now thou'lt be a kindred guide 

My future actions to control. 
Tho' issue from such godly source 

No mundane powers should demean, 
I fain to thee would have recourse 

Thy soul's nobility to glean. 
But that great boon the gods denied; 

Yet in their mercy have decreed 
That by thy side I may abide, 

To see thy soul from bondage freed." 



Musings of a Mariner 62 

"And thou wilt not have long to wait," 

In tones resigned replied the sire; 
"But ere the gods shall seal my fate, 

Would'st thou avail me of thy lyre?" 
Soon strains of mingled sweetness roll; 

'Twas from his heart and harp they sprang; 
The last outpouring of his soul — 

To his beloved star he sang: 

"Alluring lights of earthly joys 

That once illumed this world for me, 
Now surely fail as night destroys 

The dancing sunbeams on the sea. 
Yet thro' the deep, encircling gloom 

The rays of my bright star appear; 
And cause me greet my coming doom 

With joy unfeigned, Adara dear. 

"Celestial orb! departed shade 

Of peerless beauty, truth and love. 
Thro' thee are pain and fear allayed 

And hope inspired from above. 
The wondrous light that fills my soul 

Exiles all pleasures fostered here; 
And bids me seek the heavenly goal 

Attained by thee, Adara dear. 

"Beyond the pale of ev'ry thought 

Imagination can awake, 
To realms, as yet unknown, unsought. 

My errant soul its flight will take 
To seek my all-enchanting star 

Enthroned within the azure sphere; 
Thou'lt need not be my avatar; 

I go to thee, Adara dear. 
Thou'lt need not be my av-a-tar; 

I go — to thee — Adara dear." 



6^ Musings of a Mariner 

His song had grown so faint at length 

It seemed a nocturne from the skies; 
The harp responding to his strength 

Was clearly timing his demise. 
The prince relieved him of the lyre 

And laid him in a pose of rest; 
Then vainly tried to 'lay the fire 

The poison fused within his breast. 
"Ye gods !" he then imploring prayed, 

"If 'tis thy will my sire must go; 

grant his passing be delayed 
A double blessing to bestow." 

And then the feelings of his heart 

For utt'rance grew too strong and deep; 

He silent prayed, 'til with a start. 
He, list'ning, rose as from a sleep. 

What is't that greets his anxious ear. 

And clearer grows at ev'ry breath? 
He turns to see two steeds appear — 

A seeming race of life and death. 
"She comes!" he cried, in tones subdued. 

"Who comes?" the sire faintly asked. 
"The one who caused me to intrude 

Upon thee as a minstrel masked. 
To rescue her from bondage here. 

My heart and King did both decree. 

1 gain the one I love so dear; 

Whilst thou art won and lost to me." 

And scarcely had his last words died 

When by the cot the steeds were reined. 
The prince embraced his future bride; 

Tho' perfect silence they maintained. 
Their hearts were far too full for speech; 

And grief with joy were blended there. 
They knelt a blessing to beseech, 

A grateful, reverential pair. 



Musings of a Mariner 64 

The hero feebly raised his hand, 

And spake in accents soft and low: — 
"With all the grace I can command, 

My blessings on thee I bestow." 
His voice then failed; and as the flame 

Of poison bore him to his death. 
He faintly whispered that sweet name, 

"Adara," with his dying breath. 
Boston, Feb. 10, 191 6. 



LINES WRITTEN ON THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM 

QUEBEC 

Here Wolfe and Montcalm fell; 
The latter dying ere he knew 

The day to him was lost; 
The former lived till he could tell 

The day was won, — but not the cost. 

Brave Wolfe victorious died; 
And to the Nation of his birth 

A vast dominion gave; 
And 'mid a pageantry of pride, — | 

Where worthies sleep, — he won a grave. 1 

'I 
The gallant Montcalm's fate 

Deep pity wakes. By Death, to him 
Was timely mercy shown. 
His fall it did anticipate. 

He gained a grave, — unmarked, unknown. 

Upon yon terraced height. 

To victor and to vanquished, there 

A stately shaft is raised; 
And now within a clearer light 

They both are mourned — they both are praised. 



6^ Musings of a Mariner 

Upon this famous plain 

No sound of labor or of strife 

Now mars the peaceful calm; 
And may again no conflict stain 

The sightly plains of Abraham. 



A SUMMER SUNSET AT SEATTLE 

The Sun on his diurnal way 
Admits the twilight of the day; 

And spreads from out the western sea 
Upon the azure canopy 

Rare dyes of matchless blending; 
Which midway to the zenith's height 
Appear most varied and most bright; 
Tho' paling at approaching night 
The zenith marks their ending. 

Beyond the sound, upon whose breast 
The first faint shades of ev'ning rest, 
The blue Olympics — weird and grand, 
Against that gorgeous background stand, 
A source of inspiration. 
A painting so divinely great 
No human hand can imitate. 
It bows us in a bounden state 
Of silent admiration. 

Against the eastern sky appear 
The glacial heights of Mount Rainier;^ 
Whose crystal gifts of countless storms 
The ling'ring sunlight now transforms 
To pearls of light enthralling. 
A diadem begemmed on high. 
Whose charms resplendent do not die 
'Til o'er the hills which 'round them lie 
The shades of night are falling. 

iPro. Ra-neer. 



Musings of a Mariner 66 

Receding down the western skies 
The last soft tint of evening dies; 

Whilst o'er the sound and peaceful dells, 
Th' Olympics — like weird sentinels 
Arrayed in line of battle; 
Stand forth to guard with jealous care 
The beauties which surround them there; 
So in their majesty may share 
The sunsets of Seattle. 



THE FIRST HILL OF SEATTLE 

The perspiration fra my pores 

Is streaming like a fountain; 
And I'm nae mair than halfway up 

The side o' this wee mountain. 
My knees which knock are sairly bent. 
My body's awkwardly asklent. 

My larnyx wheeze and rattle; 
My heart is pumping double time. 
But 'til it stops, I'll try to climb 

The First Hill of Seattle. 

That ye're the fust and ye're the wust. 

On this I've safely reckoned; 
For ye alane I've got to climb, 

Altho' ye hae a second. 
At times, I think it was the Deil 
That formed thee, sae that he caud feel 

Delighted at my bearing, 
An' weel I ken that He has thought 
That when puir souls were overwrought, 

He'd like tae hear them swearing. 

But man by terracing yere sides 

His aim in part rescinded; 
For this affords a breathing space 

When we get badly winded. 



67 Musings of a Mariner 

And man has set, wi' skilful care, 
A few gude cables running there 

Yere pesky sides ta tickle, 
An 'gien us cars, now safely wrought, 
(I might hae ta'en one had I thought), 

But then I saved a nickel. 

But now atweel, I better feel. 

For since yere crest regaining, 
I simply revel in the views 

That I am here attaining. 
And noo fair hill 'tis weel I ken 
This lesson ye imparts ta' men: — 

Success crowns earnest labors; 
An' by the use of brawn and brain 
We'll find the only way ta' gain 

A plane above our neighbors. 



TO ROBERT BURNS 

Regarding the Monument to Be Erected for Him in Boston 

Immortal Bard! thy tuneful lyre 
Tho' long since stilled, awakes a fire 

The purest known. 
And whilst to thee and thy sweet lays. 
Our grateful nation homage pays. 
To sing an humble song of praise, 

I'll tune mine own. 

Tho' bards have soared to greater heights. 
And trained the Muse to grander flights. 

Than thou hast done; 
Yet few possessed thy magic art 
The human feelings to impart. 
Or gained the prestige o'er the heart 

That thou hast won. 



Musings of a Mariner 68 

A rustic master of the Muse, 

Whom Nature's breath seemed to infuse 

With Pow'r divine; 
To give her voice to stream and brae, 
And sing affection's sweetest lay, — 
That friendship's worth might Uve for aye, 

In "Auld Lang Syne." 

The gentle soul within thy breast 
By care and sorrow was oppressed. 

That thou might'st scan 
Within a truer, purer light 
The power of oppression's might; 
That thou might'st see, and sing aright 

The cause of man. 

And who has held so light as thou 
The crown upon the tyrant's brow? 

Or sang a lay 
To cause the brave the base to spurn. 
And Freedom's sons to proudly turn 
To gallant Bruce at Bannockburn, 

As "Scots wha hae"? 

We may not need the sculptor's art 
To wake more deeply in the heart 

Our love for thee; 
But as a meed that thou has won, 
By binding us to Albion, 
A monument we'll raise upon 

Our country free. 

Its site should be a fitting one. 
Near that of him who bravely won 

Our freedom's laws; 
For both have stirred by noble thought 
The feelings of the patriot; 
And thou hast sung and he has fought 

In freedom's cause. 



6g Musings of a Manner 

MY AULD SCOTTISH HAME 
ON THE BANKS OF THE CLYDE 

How oft in my flights o' reflection I'm borne 
Ta' scenes I sae cherished in life's rosy morn; 
How often my mem'ry rekindles the flame 
O' love for the charms o' my auld Scottish hame; 
Tho' fair is the country where sin' I ha' strayed, 
And dear are the friendships that sin' I ha' made; 
Yet fondly my thoughts turn to those wha reside 
At my auld Scottish hame on the banks o' the Clyde. 

As saft as the sunbeams that first greet the day. 
And dapple the crest o' each mountain and brae; 
As sweet as the perfume fra' heather-clad hills. 
Are feelings, remembrance my bosom instils. 
And blithely my heart still responds ta' the lays 
That once marked the closing o' calm summer days; 
When strains o' sweet music wad float o'er the tide 
Ta' my auld Scottish hame on the banks o' the Clyde. 

But dearer than a' is the love that I bear 
For those wha are fondly awaiting me there; 

The beam o' their smile and the Hcht o' their e'e 

Are fairer than a' on my vision I see. 
And twined roun' my heart is each feeling an' thought 
(Like woodbine that clings ta' the walls o' their cot), 

O' quenchless affection for those wha abide 

In my auld Scottish hame on the banks o' the Clyde. 



THE BLACK WATCH AT MAGERSFONTEIN 

'Neath the star's Southern light 

We are tenting tonight, 
Near the banks of the Modder's fair stream; 

And the stillness, tho' deep. 

Incites not my sleep. 
Yet awakens a beautiful dream. 



Musings of a Mariner 70 

And enchanted I roam 

'Mid the haunts of my home, 
With my own bonnie lass at my side; 

And again I can hear 

Her last message so dear, 
And it fills me with sorrow and pride: — 

Chorus 
Hold dear to thy heart, my brave laddie, 

The love o' thy lassie and hame; 
But engaged in the strife, hold dearer than life, 

Old Scotland's fair glory and fame. 

But my dream now is changed. 

And my vision is ranged 
On a battlefield gory and green; 

And at every breath 

Come the missiles of death 
From the weapons of foemen unseen; 

But we march bravely forth 

To the "Cock of the North," 
And tho' vainly — undaunted we fall; 

And the whole Black Watch felt 

The next night on that veldt. 
That this message inspired them all: — 

Chorus 
Hold dear to thy heart, my brave laddie. 

The love o' thy lassie and hame; 
But engaged in the strife, hold dearer than life, 

Old Scotland's fair glory and fame. 

'Neath the star's peaceful light 

They are sleeping tonight. 
On that far-distant veldt where they fell; 

And the hearts of the fair 

That inspired them there. 
Bear a burden their lips cannot tell. 



7 1 Musings of a Manner 

But old Scotland's fair name 

Shall resound with their fame 
Thro' long ages of honor and bliss; 

And her glory shall live, 

While her brave daughters give 
To their loved ones, such counsel as this: — 

Chorus 
Hold dear to thy heart, my brave laddie. 

The love o' thy lassie and hame; 
But engaged in the strife, hold dearer than life 

Old Scotland's fair glory and fame. 

COLUMBIA FRAE THEE 

Like smiles and tears of changefu' May 

That floral beauties bring; 
The changefu' feelings parting gies, 

In joy and sadness spring. 
For blithely now wad I return 

Tae Scotland, dear to me; 
But sair's my heart, for I maun part 

Columbia frae thee. 

Sae soon I'll view again the scenes 

Of a' my childhood days. 
And roam among her gowan'd dells. 

And o'er her bonnie braes. 
And when the songster's tunefu' notes 

Shall blithely welcome me, 
They'll mind me o' the friends I loe 

Columbia in thee. 

The sweetest charm my hame contains 

Are those I loe sae weel; 
The bliss o' wanderers returned. 

But they alane can feel. 
Tho' luve o' hame may prove mae dear 

Than a' the airth tae me; 
It sha'n't efface the ties I'll trace, 

Columbia tae thee. 



Musings of a Mariner 72 

THE BONNIE LASS O' LEITH 

Tho' Scottish lads are brave an' braw 

And strangers tae deceit; 
The Scottish lassies here awa. 

Are much mair nice to meet. 
And 'mang the fairest I ha' seen, 

Tae grace their native heath; 
Is ane I fa' the right tae ca' ^ 

The bonnie Lass o' Leith. 

Her shapely form and comely face 

Are of true Celtic mold; 
And filled wi' sic a kindly grace, 

Sae pleasing tae behold. 
The smile that Ughts her lustrous e'e 

Reveals her pearly teeth; 
And crowns the mien that Nature's gi'en 

The bonnie Lass o' Leith. 

Her mellow voice that charm reveals 

Peculiar tae her race; 
And shows a heart the breast conceals. 

Of virtue, truth and grace. 
Thro' sich as she auld Scotia's isle 

Has won her fairest wreath; 
Sae in my lay I'll tribute pay 

The bonnie Lass o' Leith. 



Fair fa' the soul that wakes the lyre 

Tae strains o' purest bliss; 
And can, at weel, my heart inspire 

Tae pledge a vow laik this: 
Whatever cares the Fates impose, 

Whatever joys bequeath; 
I'll ne'er forget the day I met 

The bonnie Lass o' Leith. 

1 Is one I claim the right to call. 



73 Musings of a Manner 

A SCOTCHMAN'S FAREWELL TO HIS COUNTRY 

Now dim on my sight in the evening's pale light 

Thy hills, dear old Scotland, are fading; 
Tho' pride does impel me to smile thee farewell. 

Deep sorrow my heart is pervading. 
My last view of thee brings sweet mem'ries to me 

Of scenes that I'll cherish forever; 
And ties of my youth that were nurtured in truth 

No power on earth can e'er sever. 

How often of yore have I blithely roamed o'er 

Those hills that before me are waning: 
And then did enshrine in this bosom of mine 

A love that thy beauty's constraining. 
Thy lochs so serene and the murmuring stream, 

The mountains that rise in their glory; 
The heather-clad fells and the sweet-smiling dells — 

In fancy I now see before me. 

Methinks I can hear the old melodies dear 

To strains of the pibroch now swelling. 
And every strain seems to echo again 

'Round the place where my lov'd ones are dwelling. 
To old Scottish cheer and to those I love dear 

My heart in affection is cleaving; 
But darkness and gloom now appear to entomb 

My heart and the land I am leaving. 



PASSING AWAY 

The twilight of life, Jean, 

Now spreads o'er our way, 
And shadows are marking 

The close of our day; 
The beams of life's noon-tide 

That 'round us did play. 
Are passing away, Jean, 

Arc passing away. 



Musings of a Mariner -74 

The dear ones that guided 

Our footsteps of yore. 
Have laid down their burdens 

And passed on before; 
And friends who have shared in 

Our pleasures so gay. 
Are passing away, Jean, 

Are passing away. 

The beams of thy smile, Jean, 

Once bright as the morn. 
My heart in its trials 

Have often upborne; 
And charms of thy beauty. 

Once fair as the day, 
Are passing away, Jean, 

Are passing away. 

Tho' Time is impairing 

Thy beauty and grace. 
The love-light seems brighter 

That beams in thy face; 
And thy soul's matchless beauty 

Revealed by its ray. 
Will ne'er pass away, Jean, 

Will ne'er pass away. 



MY BONNIE LITTLE JEAN 

I'm sitting in the gloaming, Jean, 

A-musing on the time. 
When in the gloaming years ago 

You promised to be mine. 
And sweetly o'er my memory 

There rises many a scene 
Of that dear place where first I met 

My bonnie little Jean. 



75 Musings of a Mariner 

How dear to me is ev'ry haunt 

Where we together strayed, 
How golden were the sunbeams then 

That 'round about us played; 
How sweetly then did Nature smile 

Upon those hills so green, 
And happy did our young hearts beat, 

My bonnie little Jean. 

But few things there remain unchanged 

Beneath Time's ruthless tide, 
And those dear ones, who gave me thee, 

There slumber side by side. 
But Time may sever ev'ry tie. 

And alter ev'ry scene, 
It can't impair the love I bear 

My bonnie little Jean. 



ALANNA MACHREE 

In the hush of the ev'ning I wander once more 

'Mid the scenes of my childhood on Erin's green shore; 

And I stand in the shade of the sycamore tree 

Where thy form is reposing, Alanna Machree. 
And sweet mem'ries awaken of days that have flown 
When thy heart was attuned in accord with my own; 

And thy song was as blithe as the lark's on the tree; 

But alas! both are silent, Alanna Machree. 

In the hush of the ev'ning how often we strayed 
When the earth in the raiment of peace was arrayed; 
And the pure air of Heaven with fragrance was filled. 
And the sweet voice of Nature, how deeply it thrilled! 
And our own happy hearts beat responsive to all. 
For we saw not the shadows that 'round us did fall; 
'Til the call of my country did wrest me from thee, 
And we parted forever, Alanna Machree, 



Musings of a Mariner 76 

Ah! that hour of parting! that touching farewell! 

When thine eyes were revealing what words could not tell; 
And the tears on thy cheek seemed to lie in repose 
Like the dewdrops of morning upon the white rose. 

That like thee was allotted one bright, fleeting day 

To display its sweet beauties and then pass away; 
But the light of my soul thou shalt e'er be to me 
'Til I rest here beside thee, Alanna Machree. 



MY DEAR COLLEEN 

Slowly down the Western welkin 

Sinks the summer sun to rest. 
And his rays, in matchless splendor, 

Tint with gold the crimsoned West. 
And he spreads a brilliant pathway 

O'er the Ocean's peaceful sheen, 
Tow'rd the land where thou did'st wander 

Years ago, my dear Colleen. 

On the hills the sunbeams linger 

Where in childhood we did play; 
O'er the vales the shadows deepen 

Where we once so loved to stray; 
And each scene to me seems hallowed. 

Where together we have been. 
And with hopes their mem'ries waken, 

I await my dear Colleen. 

Are the charms more fair than Erin's 

In that bright land of the free ? 
Are the friends that thou hast gained there 

More endearing unto thee ? 
Does the sun shine there more brightly; 

Are the hills and dales more green 
Than the hills and dales of Erin, 

Once so dear to my Colleen? 



77 Musings of a Mariner 

Tho' the evening light is failing. 

And the sun has sunk from sight, 
O'er the place where thou art dwelling 

He now sheds his noon-day light. 
Tho' my sun of earthly rapture 

Clouds of sorrow deeply screen; 
May thine own shine brightly ever, 

'Tis my prayer, my dear Colleen. 



A SPRIG OF SHAMROCK 

'Tis a little sprig of shamrock 

From a place I know so well. 
Near the heart of dear old Erin 

Where in childhood I did dwell, 
And its leaves once green as emeralds. 

Now tho' sered and scentless be, 
Yet the hand that plucked and pressed it 

Makes it O, so dear to me. 

Chorus 

Cherished emblem of old Erin 
From my happy childhood scene, 

Tho' thy emerald tints be faded. 
Thou wilt keep my mem'ry green. 

Visions bright appear before me 

Of the place where thou once grew, 
Feelings tender wake within me 

For the friends my childhood knew. 
And again with them I mingle 

In their happy childish play. 
And the sunlight of Hfe's springtime 

Beams once more upon my way. 

Chorus 



Musings of a Manner 78 

And the hills thy kindred garnish 

With their peerless, verdant dress. 
Seem to rise before me smiling 

From the Ocean's soft caress. 
And thy color and thy country 

Tho' maligned they oft may be, 
Yet my love for both grows deeper 

When I fondly gaze on thee. 
Chorus 



THE GRAND ARMY PARADE 

Boston, August 16, 1904 

The roll of reveille is heard once again, 
And the measured treading of milit'ry men; 

But their ranks are not forming in battle array, 
For the sunshine of peace on their banners now play; 
And they march to the strains of inspiring song, 
And the plaudits and cheers of a gratified throng; 
For the heart of Bostonia welcomes the brave. 
Who fought, and with valor, the Union to save. 

Their locks are now silvered, their forms bent with age. 
But their love for their country Time cannot assuage; 
And their battle-flags tattered, which wave in the sun. 
Will inform us how dearly their battles were won. 
And while we do honor to this gallant band 
(Ah! how few now remain of that Army so grand). 
Let us sigh for the heroes who found but the grave 
A meed for their efforts the Union to save. 

Then honor the heroes who are with us today. 

And cherish the mem'ry of those passed away; 
And as honor is due where'er valor is shown. 
Let us honor their foemen, whose valor we own : 

For enmity lives not in feeling or thought; 

We can only remember how bravely they fought; 
And now all united forever we'll brave 
The breeze and the battle our Country to save. 



79 Musings of a Manner 

HAIL! STARRY BANNER 

Hail! Starry Banner, as once more thou wavest 

Proudly and peacefully over our land; 
Hallowed by shades of Columbia's bravest, 

Emblem of liberty long may'st thou stand. 
Floating to zephyrs with pride we behold thee; 

Still more inspiring when wild tempests rave; 
Tenderly reverent tho' we unfold thee, 

Wav'st thou most sweetly when slumber thy brave. 

Borne to the breeze when thy country lay bleeding, 

Soon thy bright folds by her life-blood were stained; 
Then from her thraldom to liberty leading — 

Thine was a mission by heaven ordained. 
Then may thy glory forever keep spreading. 

Ever inspiring the patriot's breast; 
May the bright stars on thy Union keep shedding 

Freedom and light to the weak and oppressed. 

Fairest of banners ! O, may we remember 

Our Nation's honor is wrapped in thy folds; 
Who but a traitor then dares to dismember 

That priceless treasure it sacredly holds? 
O, may thy bearers, divinely directed, 

Thy precious glory and dignity save; 
Loved by our Nation, by others respected. 

Hail! Starry Banner, O, long may'st thou wave. 



LINES WRITTEN ON A POSTAL CARD TO A LADY 

WHO WAS THROWN FROM A CARRIAGE AND 

INJURED 

Of my sympathy for your terrible fall, 

I send you this card as a token; 
It must have been bad, but it would have been worse 

If your neck or your nose had been broken. 



Musings of a Mariner 80 



COLUMBIA'S FLORAL WREATH 

Each flower and shrub of the forest and field 

Some sentiment mutely imparts, 
The breath of sweet fragrance their fair petals yield 

Bears greetings of love to all hearts. 
And nations are wearing some favorite one, 

Endeared by the symbol it bears; 
And their sons have bestowed them, by the deeds they 
have done. 

To the wreath that Columbia wears. 



Chorus 

Then each lovely daughter and each loyal son 
Should safeguard the honors their sires have won; 
And deem it their duty for each to bequeath 
A fresh Laurel leaf to Columbia's wreath. 



The Rose of old England, the queen of the bow'rs, 

So proudly and sweetly blooms there; 
And France's fair Lily, the purest of flowers. 

Her triumphs and glory still share; 
The place that the Thistle of Scotland has gained, 

The charm of no other impairs ! 
And the Shamrock of Erin in honor is trained 

In the wreath that Columbia wears. 

The Bachelor button there modestly blows, 

A tribute to Germany traced; 
The Maple Leaf, too, from the land of the snows. 

Her sister has gracefully placed. 
The green mountain Laurel that decks her fair brow, 

Adorned by those emblems she shares, 
A sweet tie to all nations — a seal to each vow 

Be the wreath that Columbia wears. 



Musings of a Mariner 



THE LAND OF THE PALM AND THE PINE 

Tho' duty or pleasure may cause me to stray 

In lands blessed with beauties sublime; 
Where the lights of past ages enchantingly play 

O'er scenes that are hallowed by Time. 
And my heart may delight in the thoughts they incite. 

My spirits in rapture recline; 
Yet wherever I roam I still long for my home 

In the land of the Palm and the Pine. 

Few gems that are ancient her raiment adorn. 

In primitive robes she is dressed; 
Her crown is a chaplet so modestly worn, 

Tho' woven at Nature's behest. 
From the bright spangled folds of the banner she holds 

The symbols of liberty shine; 
And its sight does impart deeper love to my heart 

For the land of the Palm and the Pine. 

The beauties of youth mantle still on her breast, 

In varied relief they spread forth; 
The Palm in the South ever-verdant is dressed. 

The Pine's evergreen in the North. 
So my love stronger grows like the pine 'mid the snows, 

Ever-verdant my mem'ries entwine 
'Round that dear ingleside where my lov'd ones abide, 

In the land of the Palm and the Pine, 



SWEET MIGNONETTE 

Faded token of the past, 

Symbol of a pact divine; 
And a love so deep and chaste 

That I clasp thee as a shrine. 
Clasp thee as I once embraced 

Bright beams from a sun that's set; 
And a joy that was effaced 

With thy bloom, sweet Mignonette. 



Musings of a Mariner 82 

In that mellowed Autumn air, 

Sweet and modest thou did'st bloom; 
Sweet and modest, and most fair, 

Was the one who sealed thy doom; 
And at parting gave me thee 

Hallowed with a gentle kiss; 
That thy leaves might ever be 

Emblems of departed bliss. 

"Little darling" of the bowers, 

Whither have thy beauties flown? 
Have they with those happy hours 

Passed within a realm unknown? 
Tho' thy faded petals seem 

Like those joys now lost to me. 
Yet, how often they redeem 

Cherished gems of memory. 



FAIR FLOW'RET FROM MY NATIVE HEATH 

Fair flow'ret from my native heath 

What fate has placed thee here? 
That thy sweet presence should bequeath 

A dream to me so dear. 
A dream in which I view again 

The scenes of childhood days. 
And hear once more each tuneful strain 

Of native songster's lays. 

I seem to hear the love-song float 

Of robin and of wren; 
The linnet's soft and thrilling note 

Seems now as sweet as then. 
The cricket's sad, discordant chime 

That marked the evening's close. 
Now wakens mem'ries of the time 

It lulled me to repose. 



83 Musings of a Manner 

I see again the fir-clad hills, 

The barren, shrub-clad plains, 
The peaceful lakes, the murm'ring rills. 

The quiet, rural lanes; 
I breathe again the aestive air 

Perfumed by fragrant flow'rs; 
And once again my spirits share 

The bliss of childhood's hours. 

' I share again the love of those 

Whose spirits since have flown. 
The love that sweetened my repose 

Ere care to me was known. 
I fondly greet the light they've spread 

Upon this path of mine. 
And pray as bright a beam be shed. 

Fair flow'ret, over thine. 



THAT LITTLE COUNTRY SCHOOLHOUSE 

Gazing down the mazy past o'er the varied scenes of life. 

Golden beams and gloomy shadows do appear; 
But the distance lends a brightness to the darkest clouds 
of strife 

And they float upon my vision now more clear. 
And a tender feeling thrills me when the past reveals to me 

Happy scenes that in my childhood I have seen; 
But the one I hold the dearest, and what most appeals to 
me. 

Is a little country schoolhouse on the green. 

On my vision I can see it as it stood in days of yore. 
In the shelter and the shadows of the trees; 

I can see my happy schoolmates as they played around 
the door. 
And can hear their laughter float upon the breeze. 



Musings of a Mariner 84 

For when free from all our duties in the noon-tide of the 
day, 
Then our feelings of delight we did not screen; 
And our dear, kind-hearted teacher would oft join us in 
our play 
'Round that little country schoolhouse on the green. 

When the wint'ry blasts assailed it, and the frost was on 
the pane, 
And the winds were sadly sighing thro' the wood; 
Then within its room we'd gather, and there warmth and 
comfort gain 
From a quaint old stove that in its center stood. 
And when Nature's verdant blush was spread around it 
far and near. 
And her fragrant breath perfumed the air serene; 
Then her voice of thrilling sweetness would so often greet 
the ear 
In that little country schoolhouse on the green. 

But a fairer one supplants it; and it stands neglected there; 

But the love I bore it then I still retain; 
And the mem'ry of my schoolmates and the pleasures we 
did share 
Shall forever cherished in my heart remain. 
For that happy band has scattered; — some in distant 
lands now stray. 
Some are peacefully residing near the scene; 
And a few are sweetly sleeping in the churchyard o'er the 
way. 
From that little country schoolhouse on the green. 



LINES TO A DELINQUENT CORRESPONDENT 

I admit that you write a nice letter. 

In fact, sir, your diction is fine; 
But you must not suppose that a "hunk" of your prose 

Is worth half a dozen of mine. 



85 Musings of a Mariner 



MY DEAR LITTLE ALPINE MAID 

Tho' fair are the vales of my native land. 

And their beauties I dearly love; 
But far dearer to me is the majesty 

Of the snow-crested heights above. 
For there in the midst of those charms sublime, 

Is the light of my life now laid; 
And my heart is enshrined, near my Alpine home. 

With my dear little Alpine maid. 

Her heart was as light as the Alpine air. 

And as pure as the Alpine snow; 
Still it glowed with the warmth of the balmy breeze 

That reposed in the vales below. 
Her smile was as sweet as the blush of morn. 

And as bright as the beams that played 
On the glacial heights, o'er the mountain home 

Of my dear little Alpine Maid. 

Her cheek bore the hue of the rose at dawn 

When refresTied by the mountain dew; 
And her eyes were imbued with the matchless tint 

Of ethereal Alpine blue. 
Her voice was as sweet as the mountain larks 

That enlivened the sheltered shade; 
And my bosom would thrill to the native songs 

Of my dear little Alpine maid. 

A child of the charms of her native land, 

Like the beams of an autumn day. 
That in beauty will fade from the Alpine heights, 

Passed the maid of my heart away. 
But the imprint of love that her beauty gave, 

From my mem'ry can never fade; 
For on every view I behold some charm 

Of my dear little Alpine maid. 



Musings of a Mariner 86 

THE PASSING OF THE OLD HOME ON THE FARM 

A NEW ENGLAND PASTORAL 

Amid the green the russet tints 

Blend over hill and dell; 
The drowsing cricket wakes to sing 

Its last farewell. 
Whilst o'er a peaceful countryside 
Where nature's robes seem deepest dyed, 

The autumn sunbeams play. 
And shed such warmth upon the plain 
That summer seems now to regain 

A truant day. 

A deep and solemn stillness reigns 

Upon that lonely place; 
No sign of labor or of mirth 

You there can trace. 
Yet ev'rything the eye may scan, 
Reveals the handiwork of man 

Performed in bygone days: — 
The rambling barn, the lowly cot. 
The stone-fenced farm, the garden plot 

And rural ways. 

But Time has laid a heavy hand. 

And left its imprint there; 
And ev'rywhere the eye perceives 

A dearth of care. 
The garden plot alone betrays 
The recent care of former days; 

And you may there behold. 
Thro' loving care, a-blooming yet 
The aster and the mignonette 

And marigold. 

But listen ! deep and rumbling sounds 

Upon the stillness grate! 
A lumb'ring stage appears, and stops 

Before the gate. 



87 Musings of a Mariner 

A sweet-faced lady, bowed with years, 
From out the little cot appears 

In traveling attire. 
With faltering steps the coach she gains, 
And then her saddened heart attains 

One fond desire. 

One hand rests on the stage-coach door 

Whilst fervently she prays; 
Then on that dear, deserted cot 

She turns to gaze. 
Before her aged, tear-dimmed eyes 
Her whole past life appears to rise 

In momentary space. 
That cot had sheltered her since birth; 
And all her joys and cares of earth 

She there did trace. 

Again amid the fragrant flow'rs 

She romps in childish glee; 
And chases from their honeyed leaves 

The bumble-bee. 
The lilac-bush, beside the door. 
Its purple petals spreads once more. 

And by its shady side 
She plucks the daisies growing there. 
And weaves them in her flowing hair 

With girlish pride. 

She roams the green fields, spangled o'er 

With tints of white and gold; 
She joins the lambkins in their play 

About the fold. 
She seems to hear, and to define 
The distant lowing of the kine 

Upon the ev'ning air; 
Then tired from her daily play. 
She kneels at mother's knee to say 

Her ev'ning pray'r. 



Musings of a Mariner 



No worldly wiles nor worldly ways 

Her gentle heart beguiled; 
She was her parents' joy and pride — 

Their only child. 
The voice of Nature thrilled her breast, 
And on her youthful mind impressed 

A teaching pure and good; 
Whilst by her mother she was trained. 
Until at length she had attained 

To womanhood. 



A fairer and a brighter scene 

Invests her vision now; 
It is the May-day when she made 

Her marriage vow. 
The sun beams brightly from the skies. 
The earth is steeped in vernal dyes, 

And from the wooded hill, 
Upon her ear there floats again 
The song of robin, finch and wren. 

And whippoorwill. 

They seem to sing her wedding march 

In strains so clear and sweet; 
While Nature strews the apple blooms 

Beneath her feet. 
That shed a perfume thro' the cot, 
Far purer than the incense got 
From myrrh or frankincense; 
And never was a nuptial knot 
Beneath a brighter auspice wrought, 

She seemed as bright a flower then 
As graced New England's soil; 

And she had gained a worthy mate 
To share her toil. 



89 Musings of a Manner 

The Springtime of her life was done, 
Her Summer season had begun 

With all its joy and care; 
And from a cloudless Welkin dome 
The Sun of Bliss shone on that home 

For years, most fair. 

Another scene to her appears 

That lights her saddened brow; 
She knows the love of daughter, wife, 

And mother, now. 
She sees again at close of day 
Beside the cottage door at play 

Two sturdy little boys; 
Her parents watch them, in their glee. 
Whilst beaming by their side is he 

Who shares her joys. 

Her Sun of earthly happiness 

The zenith now had gained. 
And for a decade and a half 

It there remained. 
Ambition did not mock her toil 
Nor vice her faithful heart despoil, 

Nor aught her life demean; 
Her humble home was her domain, 
Where she was well content to reign 

Its happy queen. 

But hearts that know earth's sweetest bliss 

Must feel its keenest pain; 
And Time admits no earthly joys 

To long remain. 
Within the passing of two years 
She saw, amid her welling tears. 

Both parents laid to rest; 
And ere another year had flown. 
Her eldest son, to manhood grown, 

Left for the West. 



Musings of a Mariner 90 

And then appears the sad event 

That swept New England's farms; 
And well does she remember still 

That "call to arms"; 
Her youngest son, a noble youth, 
The soul of honor and of truth. 

And one who knew not fear. 
Then left her motherly embrace. 
The perils of that war to face — 

A volunteer. 

'Twas on the spot where she now stands 

He bade his last farewell; 
The feelings of his parents then — 

Let angels tell. 
With heads bowed low in silent pray'r 
They did commend him to the care 

Of Him above. 
That parting made him understand 
The meaning of a father's and 

A^mother's love. 

A'mother's love, — the purest flame 
.'■' That springs from worldly care; 
On ev'ry stage of youthful age, 

'Tis nurtured there. 
Then who could paint that mother's grief? 
What earthly source afford relief 

Beneath that awful spell? 
When she had learned one wintry day. 
That in the thickest of the fray 

He fighting — fell. 

But he who shared her early joys 

Was left to share her woe; 
And love beneath sweet sympathy 

Will stronger grow. 



Musings of a Mariner 



But oftentimes the willow wand 
Far better than the oak will stand 

The onsets of the gale; 
And as the fleeting years passed by— 
With anxious heart, and saddened eye. 

She saw him fail. 

And now the last and saddest scene 

Before her view is shown, 
Beside that dear old cottage door 

She sits — alone. 
No soul to cheer — no voice to bless 
Or break the awful loneliness. 

Whilst ev'rywhere she sees 
Such treasured things as will imbue 
Her heart with grief, and wake anew 

Sad memories. 

But now her days of solitude 

Upon the farm are done; 
She's leaving for the West to join 

Her eldest son. 
A home of comfort 'waits her there, 
And those who will her sorrow share 

Until life's journey's o'er; 
Then one last look, — one heartfelt sigh. 
She bids the dear old cot good-bye 

Forevermore. 

Upon our Nation's roll of fame 

Immortal names appear; 
Inscribed as poet, patriot 

And financier. 
No brighter names that roll adorn 
Than those of worthies who were born 

And reared 'mid humble toil; 
And whose first teachings may be traced 
To loving mothers who have graced 

New England's soil. 



Musings of a Mariner gz 

DAFFODIL 

Within a busy, rude retreat, 

Where fragrant flowers are rare, 
A daffodil, so fresh and sweet, 

I found a-blooming there. 
Its fragrance and its loveliness 

That rude place seemed to fill. 
And then I thought: "How strange a lot 

Is thine, sweet daffodil. 

"Fair flow' ret, must thou bloom and fade 

In this uncultured spot? 
And must thy beauty be displayed 

To those who prize it not? 
And must thy sweetness ever fail 

Affection to instil 
Save in my breast where 'tis impressed 

My lovely daffodil ? 

**I dare not claim thee as my own. 

For Fate has placed thee here 
To shed a fragrance, here unknown, 

To elevate and cheer. 
To share thy charms with more than one, 

I feel 'tis Nature's will, 
So I'll caress, I'll leave and bless 

My lovely daffodil." 



LINES TO ANOTHER DELINQUENT 

I'm driving my quill 
Today with a will. 

To make some amends for the past; 
For altho' 'tis a year 
Since from me you did hear, 

I believe that I wrote to you last. 



gS Musings of a Mariner 

O, SING TO ME THOSE DEAR OLD SONGS 

O, sing to me the dear old songs 

That I so love to hear. 
And touch again those tuneful notes 

Of melodies so dear. 
They waken tender memories 

That long have latent lain, 
And latent feelings in my breast 

Respond to them again. 

I seem to hear in those sweet strains 

Dear voices long since stilled, 
That often in my childhood days 

My breast with rapture thrilled. 
The presence of those loving ones, 

Tho' to the past belongs; 
Yet embers of their light and love 

Are fanned by those sweet songs. 

O, sing to me my native lays, 

For then I seem to see 
The beauties of my Fatherland, 

So fair and dear to me. 
And whilst I cherish thoughts of home, 

Or whilst my spirit longs 
For friends or pleasures there Fve known, 

FU bless those dear old songs. 



LINES WRITTEN UPON VISITING A CAVE ON 

THE ISLAND OF MACKINAC, MICHIGAN 

CALLED "THE DEVIL'S KITCHEN" 

I called at this "grill" but the devil was out. 
He was in New York or Chicago, no doubt; 
And the place seemed so chilly, deserted and bare, 
1 doubt if his Majesty ever was there. 



Musings of a Mariner 94 

OUTWARD BOUND 

A WATCH SONG 

I am sailing tonight o'er the sea, my love, 

I am sailing tonight o'er the sea; 
And the beacon-light o'er the lee, my love, 

Is flashing its farewell to me. 
And here as I gaze on its lingering rays, 

As they fade, slowly fade on my view, 
Sweet visions appear my spirits to cheer. 

They are visions of home and of you. 

I am sailing tonight, I am sailing tonight 

From my home in the Land of the Free; 
And whatever the care I am destined to bear, 

You will brighten my vigils at sea. 

I am sailing tonight o'er the sea, my love, 

I am sailing tonight o'er the sea; 
And the beacon-light o'er the lee, my love, 

Has flashed its last farewell to me, 
And naught greets my sight save the orbs of the night 

In the limitless circle of blue; 
Yet faintly I hear a sweet voice that will cheer 

'Til I once more return unto you. 

I am sailing tonight, I am sailing tonight 

From my home in the Land of the Free; 
And whatever the care I am destined to bear, 

You will brighten my vigils at sea. 

HOMEWARD BOUND 

A WATCH SONG 

With fresh breezes leading. 

Now swiftly I'm speeding 
Again to thee dearest across the deep sea; 

And whilst thou art sleeping. 

My vigil I'm keeping. 
And sharing my thoughts between duty and thee. 



95 Musings of a Mariner 

With sheets all a-flowing. 

Our wake's brightly glowing, 
And life thrills my yacht from her truck to her keel, 

The charms of the ocean 

Awake a devotion 
That none but the hearts of true seamen can feel. 

Dear to my heart is my yacht as she's cleaving 
Dark, heaving billows all crested with foam; 

Dear are the friends that behind me I'm leaving. 
But dearer are those who await me at home. 

The azure, arched o'er me 

Lies mirrored before me, 
A symbol of constancy spread from above; 

The winds passing fleetly 

Are murmuring sweetly, 
And wafting me on to the home that I love. 

Of thee I'm opining 

While bright stars are shining. 
And guiding me safely, my darling, to thee. 

And as I draw nearer 
Thou seem'st to grow dearer, 
Enhanced by the charms of the night-watch at sea 

Dear to my heart is my yacht as she's cleaving 
Dark, heaving billows all crested with foam; 

Dear are the friends that behind me I'm leaving, 
But dearer are those who await me at home. 



THE SHIP THAT BEARS MY NAME 

Lines written for Mr. Edward Pierce and recited at the 
launching of the ship Edward Pierce 

Hail, to the ship! the goodly ship 

That we this day consigned 
To Mother Ocean, and the trade 

For which she was designed; 



Musings of a Mariner 96 

And while your hearts for her success 

A fervent wish may frame. 
More fervent still mine own beats for 

The ship that bears my name. 

Altho' designed for humble trade 

And not for warlike fame; 
She'll carry one more flag to help 

Decrease our Nation's shame. 
So may Dame Fortune smile on her 

Thro' calms and tempests fierce. 
Now all please rise, drink to the toast: 

"The good ship — Edward Pierce." 



THE PARDONED PRIVATE 

A TALE OF THE BRITISH ARMY 

Before a martial court was led 

A private in disgrace; 
Desertion was the awful charge 

The poor wretch had to face. 

His form was of heroic mold, 

His brow of noble cast; 
And yet his wretched state betrayed 

A dissipated past. 

His case was tried, his guilt was proved, 

And then the judge arose, 
A gallant, tho' an austere man. 

His sentence to impose. 

"The court has found you guilty of 

A crime which I abhor; 
And few upon the calendar 

Have you not answered for. 



97 Musings of a Mariner 

"I've tried all kinds of punishment 

To check your base career, 
But if you've aught in your defense 

Speak forth! I give you ear." 

The soldier then saluted, and 

Replied with bated breath:— 
"Pray make your sentence final, sir, 

For I shall welcome death. 

"But e'er 'tis passed, if 'tis your will 

My case I will define; 
The first crime that I suffered for 

I swear was none of mine. 

"The lash that drew blood from my back 

Congealed that in my heart; 
And yet, the pangs which it bestowed 

Were but a minor part. 

"Vindictiveness of officers, 

And taunts of comrades too. 
Cut deeper in my tortured soul 

Than lash or brand could do. 

"At birth each human heart contains 

A virgin soul within; 
Where may be sown the seeds of love. 

Or those of hate and sin. 

"The tender shoots within mine own. 

Trained by my mother's hand, 
Were crushed by inhumanity 

And one unjust command. 

"For virtue never yet did thrive 

'Neath persecution's spell; 
Nor can you gain perfection by 

A road that leads thro' Hell. 



Musings of a Mariner 98 

"I own I was not perfect, ere 

I suffered from your rod. 
But then, produce a perfect man 

And I'll show you a God. 

"You've tried all kinds of torture, sir, 

To make a man of me, 
But never once a pardon tried. 

Nor even sympathy. 

"Inhuman torture seldom fails 

To fill the felon's grave; 
Whilst kindly words of sympathy 

The erring soul may save. 

"But unto Him, and Him alone — 

Thro' His once tortured Son, 
For pardon shall I now appeal. 

Proceed Sir! I have done." 

A feeling in the Colonel's breast 

Of sympathy awoke, 
A tender cadence filled his voice 

When he the silence broke: — 

"The truth of your assertions, lad, 

I cannot well refute; 
The sentence that I should impose, 

I therefore will commute. 

"And ev'ry man 'neath my command 

Shall know 'tis my behest. 
To pardon you, and justly place 

Your manhood to a test." 

The scene is changed, — 'tis on a field 

Of battle in the East; 
The Pagan foes had been dispersed. 

The combat now had ceased. 



99 Musings of a Mariner 

And there upon a hillside, where 

The ev'ning sunbeams play, 
Succumbing to a mortal wound 

A color-sergeant lay. 

Aloof, with heads in sorrow bowed 

His comrades stood around, 
A Colonel and a Surgeon knelt 

Beside him on the ground. 

The clothing from his breast had been 

Removed with gentle hand. 
Revealing there the hero's mark 

Beside desertion's brand. 

"O, is it willed," the Colonel cried, 

"That on this battle-field 
The breast that I had branded thus 

Should prove my living shield? 

"The one that I so deeply wronged. 

And even scorned to see. 
Now like a God lays down his life 

A sacrifice for me. 

"I feel like one forever doomed 

To play a culprit's part. 
O God! that scar upon his breast 

Seems burning in my heart!" 

The soldier feebly raised his hand 

And spake in accents weak: — 
"Forbear! forbear, my honored sirl 

I beg thee, hear me speak. 

"Let not the feelings of remorse 

Thy breast too deeply fill. 
For tho' I give my life for thee 

I am thy debtor still. 



Musings of a Mariner loo 

"The wrong I suffered at your hands 

You long since did atone; 
The deeds that caused these cruel marks 

Were mostly all my own. 

"You saved me from a traitor's grave, 

And lit within my breast 
The lamp of honor, when you placed 

My manhood to a test. 

"To raise me to an honored life 

Your moral aid you gave, 
And led me on in duty's path 

To gain — an honored grave. 

"Pray raise me now, I wish to see 

Once more before I die 
The banner of my country wave 

Triumphantly on high. 

"Why see! its folds appear to float 

Upon an amber mist. 
And to a silver strand there spreads 

A sea of amethyst. 

"And on that strand are angel forms 

In robes of priceless worth; 
A scene so wondrous beautiful — 

'Tis surely — not of earth! 

"And one fair form — with arms outstretched 

Stands forth — to welcome me; 
A form — familiar — and — so fair; 

My mother! — yes — 'tis she!" 

A smile o'erspread the hero's face 

Suffused with heavenly light. 
And softly as the parting day 

His spirit took its flight. 



loi Musings of a Mariner 

The Colonel took the flag he loved 

And placed it 'neath his head, 
Then bending o'er his prostrate form. 

These words he slowly said: — 

"Inhuman torture seldom fails 

To fill the felon's grave; 
Whilst kindly words of sympathy 

The erring soul may save." 



THE DYING AVIATOR 

Sternly his young, handsome features are drawn. 

Keen is the glance of his dark hazel eyes; 
As on his plane thro' the light of the dawn 

Lark-like he sweeps toward the star-fading skies. 
Over the lines where the musketry's rattle 

Blends with the boom of artillery's roar; 
Upward he soars till the din of the battle 

Fails in disturbing his hearing once more. 

Upward and eastward directing his flight. 

Seemingly anxious a foeman to meet; 
'Til o'er his pathway the sun's golden light 

Spreads forth in splendor his vision to greet. 
Wrapped in the thought that the scene is constraining 

"Heaven still beams o'er a war-stricken earth." 
Enmity now in his bosom is waning; 

Beauty to love never fails to give birth. 

Then o'er his comely face 

Passes a smile, 
Clearly revealing a grace 

That for a while 
Tells that his soul inhales 

Heaven's sweet breath, 
Free from the strife that prevails — 

Seems that of death. 



Musings of a Mariner 102 

Once more his features in firmness are set. 

Keener the glance of his dark piercing eyes; 
For from a field where the dew sparkles yet 

Two battle-planes of his foemen arise. 
Wholly undaunted, descending he meets them; 

Fear hath no place in that young hero's heart; 
And when in range with a volley he greets them, 

One hurtling downward he sends at the start. 

Sharp and decisive's that aerial fight: 

Never admitting the breath of a pause: 
Wounded, our hero regards not his plight 

Till his opponent, disabled, withdraws. 
Westward and downward his course he's retracing. 

Fainter he grows as his last journey ends; 
Darkness comes o'er him the landscape eflFacing, 

Dying, unconscious, he falls 'mid his friends. 

Then o'er his comely face 

Passes a smile. 
Clearly revealing a grace 

That for a while 
Tells that his soul inhales 
Heaven's sweet breath, 
Free from the strife that prevails: 

'Tis that of death. 



RITA 

A soldier's farewell 

Rita, my Rita, the day is at hand 
When, in defense of my dear native land, 
I must depart from my home and from thee. 
Joining our forces to cross the deep sea. 
Sev'ring the ties I hold dearer than life. 
Soon I shall join in the carnage and strife. 
But in all actions I ever shall be 
Loyal to country and faithful to thee. 



I03 Musings of a Mariner 



Chorus 
Rita, my Rita, heart of my heart, 
Fate now ordains, dear, that we must part; 
Even the pealing of yon village bell 
Seems to be saying: — Farewell! Farewell! 

Deep in the breast, where thy head oft reclined. 
Thy precious image is fondly enshrined; 

And from its depths there shall issue the pray'r: — 

"God grant thee strength, dear, thy burden to bear." 
What fate awaits me I cannot foretell; 
But to the end, in my mem'ry shall dwell 

All the dear scenes that have brightened our past; 

One kiss, then, Rita, it may be my last. 

Chorus 
Rita, my Rita, heart of my heart. 
Fate now ordains, dear, that we must part; 
Even the pealing of yon village bell 
Seems to be saying: — Farewell! Farewell! 



THE ROSE OF ACADIE 

Where the fair Avon is flowing 

On to the restless tides; 
Where the wild flowers are blowing 

Sweetly upon its green sides. 
All the blithe songsters were singing 

Carols of pure ecstasy. 
And in their mirth seemed to welcome the birth 

Of the Rose of Acadie. 



Bright was her natal morning; 

Lovely her sunset be; 
Sorrow and strife should mar not the life 

Of the Rose of Acadie. 



Musings of a Mariner 104 

Fair are the charms of the flowers 

Gracing her native heath; 
Rare are the gifts of the bowers 

They in their fullness bequeath; 
Softly their beauties are blending 

Over that vale to the sea; 
Fragrant and fair, — yet they do not compare 

With the Rose of Acadie. 

Bright was her natal morning; 

Lovely her sunset be; 
Sorrow and strife should mar not the life 

Of the Rose of Acadie. 



TO MARY 

In my waking hours there steal, 

Mary, dearest Mary, 
Thoughts too tender to reveal, 

Of thee, gentle Mary. 
And when Nature seeks repose. 
When my lids in slumber close, 
Then how oft my dreams disclose 

Visions of thee, Mary. 

And altho' I'm forced to roam, 

Mary, dearest Mary, 
Far away from friends and home 

And from thee, my Mary, 
But where'er I stray from thee. 

Over land, or over sea. 
Still thou always seem'st to be 

Near me, gentle Mary. 

Every chord my heart contains, 

Mary, dearest Mary, 
Is attuned in love's sweet strains 

Unto thee my Mary. 



I05 Musings of a Maritter 

And there dwells in each refrain 
Hopes that banish care and pain, 
And that I shall meet again 
With my gentle Mary. 



ROSALIE 

Fragrant and fresh as the breath of morn, 
Fairest of flowers to beauty born. 

Blooms a wild rose by the spreading sea 

Known to my heart as Rosalie. 
Seeking to claim it, I lowly bend. 
But hidden thorns my aim forfend. 

Nature ordained that thy charms should be 

Shared by many, sweet Rosalie. 

Rosalie, sweet Rosalie, 
Deeply enshrined in my memory 
Thy sweet beauties shall ever be; 
Rosalie, my Rosalie. 

When thy fair petals with age are sere 
Those who admire thee disappear; 

When thou art left in this world alone 

Then shall I claim thee as my own. 
Clasping the thorns that gave me pain 
Deep in my heart shall wake again 

Love that was once denied to thee; 

Love eternal, sweet Rosalie. 

Rosalie, sweet Rosalie, 
Deeply enshrined in my memory 
Thy sweet beauties shall ever be; 
Rosalie, my Rosalie. 



Musings of a Mariner io6 

MY STELLAR GODDESS OF THE SEA 

Of all the orbs that nightly shine 

O'er tropic sea and temp'rate zone, 
There's one whose light I can divine 

Beams steadfastly for me alone; 
To guide me o'er the trackless main 

And fill my errant soul with cheer, 
So in its flights it may attain 

To planes above this mundane sphere. 

Fair Luna's beams, nor stellar rays 

Its mystic light does not impair; 
Then starless nights and sunless days 

Within my soul 'tis beaming there. 
It tends to strengthen and refine. 

And wakes the purest thoughts in me; 
I bow before thee as a shrine; 

My Stellar Goddess of the Sea. 



IN MEMORIAM 

Sadly now my thoughts are turning 

To the days of long ago, 
Deeply now my heart is yearning 

For the one I cherished so. 
For the face that's ever vanished. 

For the voice that's ever stilled; 
For the light that's ever banished 

From the home it once so filled. 

Thro' the gloom there spread before me 

Happy scenes of bygone years, 
And the feeling that comes o'er me 

Ope's the fountain of my tears. 
For around my heart most dearly 

Severed ties seem to entwine; 
And I now can see more clearly 

What a treasure once was mine. 



107 Musings of a Mariner 

Source of all my childish gladness, 

Whither has thy spirit flown ? 
. Dost thou share my care and sadness, 

Are my sorrows to thee known ? 
Are my steps by thee still guided? 

Dost thou tell me to be brave? 
And that souls are not divided. 

But united thro' the grave. 



AN ELEGY 

ON THE PASSING OF A FRIEND 

The dread hour has come; life's varying joys 
Are severed once more from my grasp; 

The cold breath of parting all mirth now destroys. 
And buries sweet bliss in its clasp. 

A silence oppressive hangs over us all 
As we gaze on his form now at rest; 

The depth of our sorrow our speech does enthrall, 
By our tears it alone is expressed. 

A sunbeam of Nature has passed from our view, 
That gladdened each heart it o'erspread; 

No sorrow or pain could its power subdue. 
With its source it had lived, and has fled. 

As passing from light the gloom is increased, 
So is sorrow thus deepened by love; 

But hearts from the thraldom of grief is released 
By a light that's transmitted above. 

When grief of bereavement subsides in the heart. 

The pleasures of mem'ry remain; 
The loss of our dearest, fond hopes do impart 

Of that happiness we shall regain. 



Musings of a Mariner io8 

A DIRGE 

A TRIBUTE TO PRESIDENT MCKINLEY 

Attune thy harps — our hero sleeps; 
Attune thy harps — our Nation weeps; 

And let each note be clear and sweet. 

Each chord with harmony replete; 
And ev'ry voice in unison 
Acclaim the worth of that dear one, 

Whose harp the breast so often thrilled. 

Lies broken now — forever stilled. 

Touch lightly then each mystic string, 
That in the welling breast may spring 

A strength to sing as sweet as he. 

Of love and hope and charity. 
A faith like his, that each may bear 
The discords of all worldly care; 

And when life's gamut has been run. 

To say as he: — "Thy will be done." 



MY PEERLESS QUEEN 

Thou Vesper orb of peerless ray, 

That early greets the night. 
The gloom that ends the fairest day 

Reveals thy purest light. 
Thou reignest 'mid thy sister orbs 

So regally serene; 
That when thy light invades my sight. 

Thou mind'st me of my Queen. 

Thou wakest feelings in my breast 

As gentle as thy ray. 
When mingled in the azure West, 

With parting beams of day. 



I09 Musings of a Mariner 

And cause me often to recall 
That peaceful autumn e'en, 
When 'neath thine eye, enthroned on high, 
I won my peerless Queen. 

'Twas then her heart, so pure and true, 

She placed within my care, 
And thou, alone, bore witness to 

The vows we plighted there. 
And often since in Folly's day, 

Tho' wayward I have been. 
In Sorrow's night, divinely bright. 

Would beam my peerless Queen. 

And tho' the bright star of my heart 

In endless night has set. 
The light divine she did impart 

Still beams upon me yet. 
And when I gaze on thee, fair orb, 

Tho' cares my heart o'erwhelm, 
I fondly ween I'll meet my Queen 

Within a fairer realm. 



AN ADDRESS OF A YOUNG LADY TO A 
FADED VIOLET 

Sweet violet, with far more rev'rent care 

I touch thee now 
Than when I plucked thee from beneath 

The shelt'ring bough. 

For then with wanton step I sought the shade 

Where thou did'st bloom. 
And with a light and gladsome heart 

I sealed thy doom. 

That I might garnish with thy fragrant form 

A manly breast. 
And gain the pleasures to conform 

With his request. 



Musings of a Mariner no 

Thy modesty appeared a symbol then 

Of love divine; 
And now thy faded petals seem 

A sacred shrine; 

Which solemnly reveals how fleeting are 

The charms of youth. 
And how enduring is the worth 

Of love and truth. 

For time and space can never wrest from me 

These mem'ries dear 
Which waken when I gaze upon 

Thy petals sere. 

So I shall keep and ever cherish thee, 

And always feel 
That what thou art to me, I was to him: 

A fond ideal. 



MA BELLE CAP'TAINE 

Commandress fair! the Fates decree 

Our courses shall divergent be; 

But thou hast shown whilst in command 
The kindest heart wields strongest hand; 

And artless beauty will prevail 

Where haughty pride and harshness fail. 
Then kind and artless e'er remain 
I counsel thee — Ma Belle Cap'taine. 

And may'st thou sail upon Life's sea 
From worldly care and sorrow free; 

O'er Sun-kissed waves — 'neath smiling skies 

Illumed by light that never dies; 
And gentle zephyrs to thee bear 
Rich blessings that thy soul may share 

Until thy destined port thou'lt gain; 

I signal thee — Ma Belle Cap'taine. 



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